Planes of Existence
by Mystic25
Summary: In 2020 Max Guevera is involved in an accident. While Logan and Zack race against time to reach her before Lydecker does another battle for her safety is taking place – in 1944. (bad summary; good story)
1. Chapter 1

"Planes of Existence"

AUTHOR: Mystisc25

RATING: R, for violence, language and mature situations

DISCLAIMER: Yes James Cameron owns Dark Angel, but that doesn't mean I don't have better story ideas then he does. So long as he doesn't sue me for them I won't be forced to throw frivolous lawsuits of my own in his face.

SUMMARY: In 2020 Max Guevera is involved in an accident. While Logan and Zack race against time to reach her before Lydecker does another battle for her safety is taking place –in 1944.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I suck at summaries so hopefully that got someone interested.

Before you read this story I will establish a few things:

1. It is set in Season One, somewhere after "Hit a Sista Back" but before "Meow"

2. Logan can walk without the aid of a wheelchair or an exoskeleton (let's just say he still could walk after "Kidz Are Aiight") I'm not denying the existence of Logan's handicap all together, just for this story. I understand that he _did _have a handicap in Season one but just forgive my cowardice in this story.

AUTHOR'S NOTE #2: This took me all summer to write (From May through July). I wrote it down by hand originally, spent many nights at my desk getting good inspiration (I felt like a scholar, hee hee.) I wanted to do a big stand-alone piece, so here it is. And I'm actually pretty proud of it. Hopefully you all will be too.

**= = = CHAPTER ONE = = =**

SEATTLE – FOGLE TOWERS

MAY 5, 2020

9:05 PM

"It's your move." Max rested her elbows against the table, mentally counting the number of black pawns she had already swiped with her white queen.

"I'm aware of that." Logan enlightened, gazing over his remaining pieces with the eye of a military war strategist, trying to find a way to take Max's queen that had already wiped out half of his chess pieces. "This game requires a keen sense of awareness, an eye for the opposition." He slid his rook to the back row of the board, capturing one of Max's bishops, and added proudly: "It's all about skill." He placed the bishop next to his other conquests.

"No, it's stalling." Max corrected matter-of-factly, sliding her queen into a well though out position on the board. "Check."

Logan glanced over the pieces and a look of stunned confusion made his forehead crease. "Is that—checkmate?"

"You know the rules of this game as well as I do." Max returned with a hint of a coy smile playing across her lips. She couldn't help gloating at her advanced chess playing abilities.

"Was there a class at Manticore that taught you the significance of bragging rights?" Logan asked, glancing up from the game to stare into Max's familiar brown eyes that he believed was trapping all the light in the room because they were so dark.

Max shook her head negatively at Logan's question on her skill level. "The process of bragging rights when you win against your adversary can't be learned. It's an acquired privilege after you make a take down."

"What if I told you that I was an ace level player at this game until you showed up?"

"Whatever you hafta tell yourself to ease the sting from loosing to a girl." Max teased in a deadpan voice.

Logan couldn't help laughing quietly at her answer. She was the only woman he knew that was capable of kidding around with such a serious tone in her voice. "So it's like that is it?" He questioned, his smile still there.

"'Fraid so," Max agreed with a smile of her own. It was a contagious action. She raised the sleeve of her royal blue v-neck sweater to check her watch. "This girl's gotta blaze." She stood up from the black chair she had been sitting at during the game. Her leather jacket hung on the back of the chair and she slid it on her body in a single flawless motion.

"Well I appreciate you showing me your moves." Logan remarked in a lighthearted manner.

A genuine smile spread across Max's face. "Anything I can do to further the advancement of knowledge for the little people is worth spending time over." Her eyes locked on his and she found herself captivated by their crystal blue orbs. "See ya around." She smiled at him again, as genuine as before but also hinting at something more in the silence.

But before Logan could decipher it Max turned around and walked to his front door. He watched her the entire time, silently admiring the way her toned form fit into her leather jacket and jeans.

Max turned her back around and caught him watching her. Her full bottom lip vibrated on the formation of a word but nothing came out. Whatever hidden meaning had been behind her earlier smile was now expressing itself throughout her entire face. And for one brief instant Logan imagined her closing the door and slinking back to his living room to play another 'game' besides chess.

He blinked once and that fantasy fell apart by the sounds of her black boots stepping over the threshold and the quiet 'clunk' of his front door closing behind her.

Only after Max had disappeared from his line of sight did Logan release the breath that he had been holding.

XXXXXXXXX

Max's body formed easily to the contours of her black Kawasaki Ninja 650 motorcycle. She straddled the seat like a lover she met up with at night to do things that only went on behind closed doors. Her hand torqued the throttle resting underneath the handlebars and it awaked the DOHC 8 valve engine from its slumber. She revved up the motor a few times to circulate the gas in the engine to prevent it from coagulating. She raised the kickstand from the road and shifted the Ninja into 'drive' pulling out of the concrete parking garage of Fogle Towers.

Outside the sun had long gone down and the black sky was now bathed in the artificial pale yellow and white light from the streetlight that sat on either side of the fence like barrier of the overpass that prevented the cars from going over the edge. A thin sidewalk ran along the edges of the streetlight and dozens of the homeless were camped out it, taking up the space between each streetlight.

Max rode on through the poster for the downfall of a political super power and the sight of her bike drew the attention of scruffy looking children in torn cloths that stared at the bike longing for the statues that came with owning such a powerful machine.

Max slowed the bike down at the intersection exit that lead down to her neighbor hood. She sat behind a petroleum tanker truck at, and after a minted of observing the rain drops that had collected on the license the traffic light changed to green and the Ninja began to inch forward with the rest of the traffic. Max peeled ahead of a chrome colored Hyundai Alantra that had been stopped in a drag race position beside the tanker truck at the light. She was halfway through the intersection when the sounds of panicked honking reached her ears. And she turned in time to see a blue Jeep Cherokee swerve into a ditch to avoid a pair of blinding white head lights that were headed right at her.

She heard the sound of the 2,500 pound yellow Hummer slam into her bike before she felt it, it sounded like an artillery tank rumbling at her on a collision course. The Hummer's body rammed into the back of the Ninja sending it into a tailspin against the sudden force and the impact threw Max off the seat and she rolled across the rock hard asphalt smacking her front brow into the 17-inch hub of the Ninja's front wheel. Max flipped over once more before both bike and rider finally came to a sickening halt against the concrete barrier that lined the edges of the sidewalk. Max landed in a slumped position beside her mangled bike. Blood gushed from her forehead and the hideous stain also coated the cracked headlights of the Ninja.

"Oh my god!" A woman's voice screamed from the seat of her Alantra. She had just witnessed the horrible accident. "That fucker ran a red light and hit that motorcycle! Call an ambulance!"


	2. Chapter 2

**= = =CHAPTER 2= = =**

SEATTLE - CLUB CRASH

MAY 5, 1944

"Need a light?" The young bartender held out a silver lighter to the butt end of a cigarette that was stuck in a black lady-like holder.

A black fedora hat with a red ribbon trim raised itself slowly to reveal the face of its owner- a striking young woman with full lips and deep smoky eyes. The woman, whose name was 'Max', removed the holder from her mouth. "What this?" She held up the cigarette for the bartender to see. "Just a place to rest my lips." She yanked the stick by the end from the holder proclaiming in a low, but sensual voice: "I don't smoke." She discarded the Laramie Slim into the clear octagon ashtray that sat on top of the bar.

"You know you're killing me Ms. Guevara," the bartender insisted rolling up the sleeves of his white Brooks Brother's dress shirt. "The boss man's paying me to keep the ladies entertained and you're denying my free service kind of puts a wad in his garter belt."

Max Guevera- the twenty something brunette- pulls her lips into a smile at this remark. "We all have ways of being entertained Calvin, and it don't always require a clam up on a Laramie."

Calvin 'Sketchy' Williams smiled while picking up a newly washed highball glass to dry on the white dishtowel that was slung over his shoulder. "I don't get you sometimes." Sketchy commented as he wiped down the glass. "You've got truckloads more class then all these Al Capone cock chasers. So why are you hanging around a dive like this?"

Max stared into the brandy swirler in front of her before coming up with an answer. "I'll tell you up front Sketchy, it's not for the drinks." She dipped a long elegant finger inside the iridescent brown liquid, pulling it out a second later to suck the cheap tasting alcohol off of her finger. "It's for the music." She shifted her body – covered in an open double-breasted trench coat revealing a black dress of some sort that was almost completely obscure beneath the coat's heavy material- and focused heron the black stage that was lit from above by halogen lights.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Bling – the tall handsome M.C. dressed in black pants, white linen shirt and black suspenders – sat a black baby grand piano bombing his deep sensual voice into the microphone that sat next to the instrument. "Welcome to Club Crash." His hands glided out a bluesy piano cascade. "Now as your M.C. for this evening's night of fine performances it is my esteem pleasure to introduce to you all the foxiest jazz ticket to ever hit Seattle, the very sexy Ms. Original Cindy."

The lights overhead the staged all dimmed and a spot light switched on illuminating the face of Original Cindy, the club's famed singer. The light shimmered off her eggshell white A-line dress. The fabric plunged in the front wrapping around her full-bodied cleavage, leaving little to the imagination. The skirt to the bombshell dress cascaded down to the floor in ruffled layers that revealed matching white satin pumps that also matched the white magnolia blossom pinned up in her length of dark brown hair.

"That's my girl!" Sketchy cheered from behind the bar amidst the whistles and loud applause from those that were seated at the club's round oak tables.

Max crossed one long bare leg over the other with the slinky prowess of a cat, settling in to watch the performance.

On stage Original Cindy raised a hand – clad in an elbow length white satin glove- in a graceful gesture above her. The crowd immediately quieted down and only a few claps echoed after Cindy's movement. A minute later the band that was positioned behind Cindy began to play a hot tune and Cindy's hands locked on the silver microphone in front of her as she started to sing.

"_Summertime, and the livin' is easy. _

_Fish are jumpin' and the cotton is fine _

_Oh your daddy is rich and your ma is good lookin' _

_So hush little baby don't you cry."_

Her voice was a mixture of harmonious melody and sultry jazz. She dipped the microphone in a sensual movement and switched her voice to a seductive raspy octave.

"_One of these mornings your gonna rise up singing _

_Then you'll spread your wings and you'll take the sky _

_But till that mornin' there's a nuthin' that can harm you..."_

She dipped the microphone stand lower and deeper between her legs and several men in the audience undoubtedly came in the crotch of their pants.

"_With daddy and mammy standin' by."_

On the last note Cindy raised the microphone and stopped a hairs breath from kissing the top of it.

After the vibrato in her voice faded the crowd jumped to their feel in thunderous applause and catcalls.

"Bring it home foxy lady!" Sketchy joined in the ovation, watching Cindy throw kisses back to the crowd before turning to the 12 piece jazz band with a grand wave of her hand to give recognition to the people that had accompanied her on the number.

The band clapped and cheered for her as loud as the patrons in the audience and Bling blew Cindy a long reachable kiss from the seat of his piano.

"Whoo!" Bling complimented on the appeal of Cindy's song fanning himself with the open collar of his shirt. "After something as hot as that I'd say it was time for an intermission."

The crowd protested loudly, some of them going so far as to 'boo' Bling on the stage.

"Hey I know." Bling's low rich voice agreed. "But a sugar droppin' momma's gotta cool her vocals sometimes. So all you hot lover boy types cool yourselves off. There'll be another set in 15."

Bling stood up and leaned over to kiss Original Cindy's cheek when she passed him. "You were smokin' tonight baby."

Cindy smiled at the props. "You were bad yourself boo, ticklin' those ivories."

"That's because I'm workin' with one of the greats." Bling returned resting a firm hand on Cindy's bare shoulder.

Cindy smiled again. "You're the only male I really dig. She leaned over to kiss Bling on the cheek like he had just done with her. She pulled away after a moment wetting her lips with a quick tongue. "Now if you'll excuse me hot playin' piano man Original Cindy's gotta make the most of this intermission." Her eyes wandered over to where Max was sitting in the leather stool.

She stepped down the three black marble steps that lead to the floor and made her way over to Max.

"You laid it down smoother then silk." Sketchy praised as Original Cindy approached the bar.

Cindy nodded at him in silent appreciation. "Ms. Holiday and I just have a lot in common. We're two soul sistahs not livin' the ideal life, just livin' our own." She spoke of the legendary jazz singer Billie Holiday who was tearing up the music scene across the country.

"In that case can I interest my lady in an adult beverage?" Sketchy asked setting a skinny martini glass filled halfway with a green olive garnish floating on top.

Cindy smiled and accepted the drink. "Thanks boo." She took a slow appreciating sip from the end of the glass. "But don't think serving me a fine alcohol like this is gonna get you past my satin A-line." She pulled the olive out of its martini bath and trapped it between her full plum hued lips. It performed a vanishing act a second later, disappearing into the cave of her throat. "Original Cindy may sing like she longs for a Mac Daddy but that don't mean she wants to roll with one."

"I think Mac Daddy Sketch takes a lot of cold showers to keep that fact in line." Max said with the flavor of a smooth speaking lady of wit.

"He's not the only one." A new voice joined the mixture.

From behind a table comprised of a straight out pimp and his blond flesh entourage emerged Logan Cale, a reporter for the Seattle Star. His eight of 5'11" gave him barely a two-foot clearance underneath the bronze chandelier hanging above his head. His blue double breasted pinstripe suit complete with a matching vest and black argyle tie only gave away hints to the form that was housed underneath the expensive fabric. His eyes were not the drop-dead gorgeous type of players, but they were a strikingly rich blue behind black wire rimmed glasses. This entire combination gave his face a charismatic intellectual sexiness that more then made up from any lack of hunky movie star looks.

Logan made his way over to Original Cindy, stopping only one step short of coming in contact with her body. "This reporter says you were cooking tonight."

Cindy had a grin in her face that had never been achieved by another human being. She responded: "I just lay it out the way it comes out of my soul boy."

"That's why the public falls in love with it every time." Logan agreed. "You can't fake that kind of appeal."

"They don't call it 'soul food' for nothin'" Cindy's smile changed from innocent to sassy. "Can a news hockin' brotha kick back for a drink?"

"My editor expects my report on the steamy aspects of this jazz club on his desk in the morning." Logan responded. He was forever a slave to the buttoned down media world.

"Yeah well your boss is just gonna hafta cool it down," Max notified, enlightening Mr.Cale on her philosophy of bosses that cracked the whip. Her smoky eyes caught sight of the flame that was burning in his bottomless baby blue ones. "Cause even a hard working reporter man is entitled to a little down time." She took a hit from the brandy that up until then she had only been playing with. Her neck moved rhythmically as the warm liquor glided down her throat.

Logan Cale was the first one to notice this simple display that had such a lustful air, at least to him. "Ms. Guevara. It's wonderful to see you again." His voice exuded a quiet masculine allure that made him a mystery upon first hearing him speak. But he also had a certain way that he wore his smile that made women want to find out what that mystery was. He had met Max Guevara before – at this same club – and once again found himself under the spell of her charms.


	3. Chapter 3

**= = =CHAPTER 3= = =**

SEATTLE - FOGLE TOWERS

MAY 5, 2020

10: 35 PM

"_I haven't seen or heard from her since 8:00 tonight boo."_ Cindy's voice was very anxious over the receiver of her black cordless phone. _"And I don't mean to sound like no upset housewife but Original Cindy's worried about her girl. She's not one to be up and late comin' home."_

"I don't understand how she couldn't be back there already." Logan said in disbelief, not even hiding the concern that had taken command of his normally calm tone. "It's only a half hour drive back to your place."

"_I wouldn't be callin' if I understood this shit Logan,"_ Cindy beat Logan out on the panicky voice. She paced around her hovel of an apartment with all the collectiveness of an expectant father. _"All I know was my boo was supposed to make back to the crib an hour ago and she's a no show, and that sends my warnin' flags up cause sistah girl is punctual down to the wire."_

"Have you tried paging her?" Logan asked.

"_Fool I wouldn't be callin' you if I had gotten a hit on Max's pager."_ Cindy had left concern behind and had moved on to pissed off.

"Calm down." Logan tried to be the voice of reason even though he himself wasn't _calm_ at all. He was doing all he could just to keep a steady, non-alarmed rhythm in his voice. "I'm sure she just got held up in traffic; you know how bad the situation is with the road systems here."

"_All I know is somethin' seriously bad went down with my sugah. I feel it like a prick feels up thighs boy. And judging by your B.S. explanation you're pickin' up on my bad vibe too."_

Logan didn't say a single word in a drawn out 10 seconds because he had just lost all credibility to his traffic argument.

"_I know you're still there; I can here you breathin'"_ Cindy ended the silence

"I'm not sure exactly what it is you want me to do." Logan told her. He _was_ worried about Max, _very_ worried now that Cindy had called asking about her but he wasn't a magician. He couldn't snap his fingers and find out Max's current location.

"_Look – you wanna be International Man of Mystery that's your deal, but if you really care for my home girl the way you say you do you'll find her. Otherwise I'm gonna beat on your ass."_ Cindy hung up from her end, forgoing any pleasantries or formal good-byes.

Logan stared at his phone after the call ended. He hung it up slowly like it had just bitch slapped him. Cindy's words hung around him like the scent of bad cologne. He knew Max too well to think that something as mundane as the late night traffic stalled her for over an hour in getting home. It was a simple explanation to the problem – but it was _too _simple. And nothing involving Max was ever that easy or that neat.

Logan reached for his phone again, but then changed his mind and laid it back down in the charger base. Who was he going to call? Detective Sung? Was he going to ask Matt if any beautiful women were seen out on the streets tonight? The Seattle Police Department already had holding cells filled with girls that matched that description, prostitutes mostly. It would take all night for anything to be dug on Max using that simple bit of information. Though none of the prostitutes could hold a candle to Max. She was more then just a pretty face and a killer body. She was something so rare that no words had yet been written that would accurately describe her.

If she had just been beautiful Logan would've lost interest. Valerie had been beautiful, so had Daphne and a dozen other girls he had dated over his lifetime. Pretty faces, but no substance. Women his father and uncle approved off because of their exclusive blue blood breeding. But with Max – she was so fiercely independent that he couldn't help feeling slightly intimidated by her, but also finding her incredibly sexy at the same time. Max constantly claimed that they 'weren't like that'. But she never knew the countless sleepless nights he suffered through and ice cold showers he subjected himself through after every single encounter, every smile from her lips. She was like a full-bodied drink and by the time he realized her affects on him he was too intoxicated to care. But when it came to Max he never wanted to be a sober man.

His hand reached towards the phone again, and this time he placed it to his ear and dialed the number to the Seattle Police Department's 25th Precinct.

"_Seattle Police Department. How can I direct your call?"_ The crisp, bright voice of a blonde receptionist in a navy blue skirt suit came over the line. She had just been hired two weeks ago and even though she spent half of the day at her desk filing her nails she was good at her job.

"This is Logan Cale," Logan introduced himself, pacing around in front of his couch. "I'd like to speak to Detective Sung."

"_One moment please,"_ the receptionist covered the bottom end of the phone with her free hand and swiveled around in the worn office chair to a group of cops who were all examining a case report at a single desk. "Detective Sung, there's a Logan Cale on the line for you."

Sung looked up from the incident report on aggravated burglary at the mention of Logan's name. "Thanks Melinda." He said smiling at the receptionist who smiled back and handed him the phone. Melinda left her desk so Sung could have his conversation in relative privacy.

"_Logan what's up?"_ Sung leaned over Melinda's desk as he took the call.

"Matt I need a favor from you." Logan answered the question quickly, wanting to get things moving.

"_You know whatever it is I'll do what I can."_ Sung reassured. Logan was a trusted friend and his calls were usually urgent.

"I'd like you to cross check your dispatch call backs for anything involving a woman on a motorcycle."

"_You have to be more specific then that Logan. Women and bikes go together in this city like a teen punk in pervert row at an all night lap dance parlor."_

"She's a friend of mine. She left my apartment a little after nine for a thirty minute drive back to her apartment but her roommate told me she never made it home."

"_I hate to be the one to tell you this, but most police calls involving women at night almost always include foul play. Kidnapping and gang rape are the two highest forms of crimes committed in Seattle."_

"She's very capable of taking care of herself Matt." Logan interjected, trying to get the words 'gang rape' out of his mind.

"_Then my next hunch would be that she's been involved in some kind of accident, possibly driven off the road by some drunk driver."_

"You know, you're not exactly putting my mind at ease Detective."

"_I'm being realistic here Logan."_ Sung said factually. "_Now I know it's not something you want to ear considering that you and this girl are close, but these kinds of accidents happen every night in this city. Kids go out partying with their buddies and are too drunk to see straight but they chance driving home anyway and wind up side swiping a family SUV packed with children."_

Sung paused for a minute, knowing that this was a lot for Logan to take in, and looking for a way to help the man. _"I'll cross check all paramedic and EMS response calls in the last three hours okay? But I need a description of so I can match it with anyone who got picked up tonight."_

"Her name's Max Guevara, but she usually doesn't give out her last name so she'll just go by Max. She's 5'7 thin, pretty with very long curly brown hair and brown eyes and she was driving a black Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle."

"_I'll see what I can find out."_ Sung said after hearing Logan's description. _"From the length you_ _went to describe her she must be pretty important to you so I'll get right on it."_

"I appreciate what you're doing." Logan was working equally hard to shake off the effects of Matt's words about his relationship with Max as he was to keep his breathing at an even level.

"_You know I'm good for any kind of help Logan."_ Sung stated.

"I know." Logan agreed quietly. "I just hope your wrong on this one."

"Dispatch this is Unit 35." A female Paramedic dressed in a heavy black uniform coat spoke to Metro Medical in the receiver of her radio. "We're en route with an MVA (Motor Vehicle Accident) Motorcycle vs. automobile. Young woman, looks to be Hispanic, early twenties. Reps are good but she's got a nasty scalp lac that hasn't clotted and a mother of a leg wound."

"_Unit 35, were you able to get her name?"_ The nurse at the other end of the dispatch radio asked.

"Negative. None of the witnesses at the scene knew who she was and she had no ID on her so we had to bring her in as a Jane Doe."

"_What's your ETA?" _

"15 minutes, we're pulling up to the Uptown Expressway now."

"Hey Hawthorne-" the Paramedic's partner pulled something paper – a laminated Sector Pass – out from the inside of Max's shoe. "Check it out." He held it out for Hawthorne to see.

Linda Hawthorne grabbed a hold of the square object reading the computer generated words printed on it. "Dispatch, scratch the 'Jane Doe' status. Woman's name is Max Guevara."

XXXXXXXX

"Sir!" Agent Sondaval, a balding white man in an ash gray Armani knock off suit pulled the earpiece from his ears and yanked the adapter from the port plug in the silver Sony Vaio computer, turning up the volume.

A shadow cast itself over Sondaval, as the man Sondaval had just addressed as 'Sir' – Colonel Donald Lydecker approached him.

Lydecker, or Deck to all those that knew him and those that feared him stopped directly behind the chair Agent Sondaval was seated at listening to the voices emitting from the gray Altec speakers placed on either side of the computer.

"_Can you confirm that Unit 35?"_

"_Positive. 'Max Guevara. We found it on her Sector Pass."_

"_Copy that 35. We're awaiting your arrival."_

"Where's this being transmitted from?" Deck asked pulling back up to his full intimidating height of 6'1" making Sondaval seem less like a man and more like a kid who had wandered in by mistake.

"An Ambulance just south of Sector Nine checkpoint Sir." Sondaval responded to Lydecker with the air of a soldier to his superior officer. "They picked up the girl in an auto accident."

"Do we know where they're headed?"

"Metro Medical is right over Sector Nine's beginning perimeter Sir; they'll take her there." Sondaval stated his speculation like he had already proven it to be fact.

"I want a unit waiting for that rig when it pulls into the ambulance bay." Deck barked out orders like the Purple Heart decorated Army Colonel that he was. "Tell them to box them in."

"Sir she's traveling with an Paramedic escort. If we converge on the ambulance someone in the hospital is going to know and we risk exposure and possibly not even grabbing her at all."

"What do you propose we do then Agent Sondaval?" Deck growled, glaring at him. "Send her some flowers and wait for her to recover?"

"Sir all I'm saying is we need to approach this from a different angle. We should set up on the hospital and take her out in the middle of the night."

"It's already ten o'clock. Which middle of the night are you referring to?"

"She's been injured." Sondaval reminded, dropping the ass kissing tone for something with more balls in it. "She could bleed out before we even make it back to Manticore." A pause. "Let the doctors fix her as best as they can and we'll initiate the transfer once they've settled her into a room."

Deck was not a happy man after he had heard Sondaval's –in his opinion- POS tactic on brining Max in. Sondaval was a snively cooperate bred weasel. He had never seen combat, never even been in the service. But yet he was assigned to a highly classified military run project. And Deck had no love loss for a man he would have gladly let his kids use as target practice.

"Tell me something Agent Sondaval-" Deck's voice had dropped down to a hushed raspy voice of an Army interrogator trying to mess with his captive's head. "Is it a hard job to purposely find new ways to pull crap out of your ass in order to directly defy my requests?" Deck took a step closer to the other man; his body now assault distance away from Sondaval. "Because it appears to me that you've lost sight of who's running the show." Deck breathed hot dragon fire breath on the skin of Sondaval's pasty white neck.

"I'm only following her orders Sir," Sondaval insisted. "She asked that all captive X5s be in functional condition when they arrive back at Manticore and she wants to be notified when any takedown happens."

"This is still _my_ game. You are not required to follow every goddamn order she slaps in your face." A slow deliberate pause. "We'll recon the hospital to bring in X5-452, but she is _not_ to be notified after it goes down."

"Sir she specifically ordered-"

"I don't give a damn about her orders!" Deck barked in a voice just one level lower then a full shout. He stared down Sondaval the way he use to do new recruits. "452 is _my_ charge and this situation will be handled at my digression." Deck reached behind the back end of his leather jacket and pulled out a black Beretta handgun, cocked it and aimed it at Sondaval's chest. "And if you can't wrap your head around that you'll be summarily dismissed."

Agent Sondaval watched the gun with the universal fear all human beings possessed when a weapon was pointed at them.

"Are there any more concerns you wish to address about this matter Agent Sondaval?" Deck asked glaring down at the agent from the muzzle of his gun.

Sondaval's silence was the exact answer Deck wanted to hear. He released his finger from the trigger and pointed the gun to the concrete floor. "Get a unit ready to deploy in 15 minutes. We're bringing her in alive."


	4. Chapter 4

**= = = CHAPTER 4 = = =**

SEATTLE – CLUB CRASH

MAY 5, 1944

Max picked up the long necked glass allowing the contents – a 20-year-old Chablis – to work its way down her throat, appreciating the light but smooth taste. After shaking off the effects of a great wine she replaced the glass on the bar. "Never considered myself an appreciator for fine alcohol." Her words were directed at Logan Cale who had been the one that had ordered the drink for her. He seemed to wait in trepidation for her to finish her sentence and she sensed it. "But a hit as smooth as this one might swing me to think otherwise."

Logan tried hard not to be affected by the velvety smoothness of her voice, but it was as successful as trying to shove a baby back inside its mother's womb. "Then I'm glad I could be a part of the biggest thing to hit this club since Albert Prez showed up in '42."

"Don't rank me up there with the greats Mr. Cale," Max said pretending to be grossly interested in the remnants of wine that had puddled into the bottom of the glass. But then she seemed to change her mind and focused her attention on something else she seemed to like better – him.

"I'm just like all the other momma's in this scene lookin' for the few bits of liquid flavor left in this city." Her gaze never wavered from his when she said this. She wasn't afraid of missing the 'moment' of love that other women dreamed about. That kind of melodrama only existed in perfect worlds and the last time she checked she was outside the city limits for a place like that.

"But you're wrong there," Logan corrected, wondering if lesser men had gone insane having to restrain themselves from kissing this incredibly sexy woman when the were only a breath away from her. "You're not like any of the other 'mommas' out there." He gazed at her in such a manor that if it had been any other time and they had been any other man and woman they would be having pure, unadulterated sex right there on the bar. But they were both individuals with a much higher intellect most people carried around with them. So they opted against lustful demonstrations in favor for the art of mental seduction.

"Brotha's tryin' to tear it up in here." Cindy said giving Logan a truckload of verbal props for his successful 'non-player' line on Max. "Couldn't have happened to a more smokin' sistah." She laid an approving hand on Max's trench coat clad shoulder smiling larger then a teenage boy the first time he realized he had functional equipment between his legs.

Logan blushed slightly after hearing Cindy's remark. He had entertained the idea of getting Max alone all night. But actually hearing his thoughts out loud made him sound like nothing but a wolfish womanizer; and that was not a persona he wished to associate himself with.

"Why Mr. Cale you're blushin'" Max remarked letting her body language be influenced by his presence by un-crossing and recrossing one long well toned leg. Not in a hooker 'baby come get some' fashion but in a smooth move that let his brain come up with the meaning behind it. "You can't start working a girl with your suave intellect and smooth-as-silk tone and then be surprised at hearing your own thoughts out loud." She laid her hand down on the bar beside his, as close as she could get to without actually touching him.

"Excuse me-" a throat cleared behind them. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." The voice itself was deep with an underlying hint of authorative masculinity, The owner of such a commanding virile tone turned out to be one Colonel Donald Lydecker, a 6'1" man in an green Army officer's dress uniform fastened all the way up with knobbed shaped brass buttons.

Cindy turned her attention towards Colonel Lydecker because it was her that he was addressing. "Can I help you with somethin' solja man?" Even though Original Cindy was an out and out lesbian she couldn't help but admire they way the Army Colonel fit into his dress greens. His hair was graying and cropped according to the military code that made him look like a handsome authority figure.

"I just wanted to let you know how much your singing moved me." Lydecker's voice was a mixture of auestere undertones and sexy suavism. He was a man who could blow legs off with an semi automatic weapon or take someone down in mad passionate sex – it all just depended on the situation.

Cindy was very flattered to receive any kind of compliment; but coming from an obviously prestigious and decorated military man was on a much higher plane with her then any of the drunk patrons' whistles and catcalls to her every night. "I'm glad that Original Cindy's lyrics were able to speak so deeply to a high caliber man such as yourself Sir."

"That feeling is very much returnable Ms. Original. Especially with a smooth voice like that." Lydecker complimented.

Cindy couldn't help the blush that coated her cheeks a light pink, reminiscent of the petals of a pastel rose. "Not that I don't appreciate the flattery Mr. Army Man but all this talk is just gonna go straight to my head and I'll forget how to sing."

"Somehow I doubt that." Lydecker informed in the all-knowing voice his position in authority created.

"Excuse me-" This time the voice belonged to Bling the M.C. who had descended from his piano island on the stage and now stood in front of Max, a smile on his face. "Ms. Guevara, would you mind pleasing our ears?"

Max took another slow sip from her Chablis floating in the expensive stemware. "For you Bling, anytime." She set the glass back down on the bar and removed her hat, pulling the tortoise shell pins from her hair which allowed its chocolate brown length to cascade like a waterfall past down her shoulders. She undid the sash of her trench coat and the heavy material gave way to an ebony chiffon floor length gown with a soft but plunging 'U' neckline that folded over at the edges like a loosely placed matching scarf. The dress was cut low in the back stopping just short of the dip created by her spine, leaving supple flesh exposed to the artificially cooled air. The fabric clung to her but was loose enough in key places to allow her to move without being confined to a posture that no human being should ever be capable of pulling off.

She stood up with all the mannerisms of a woman who knew full well the effects her looks had on men. But it was a maneuver executed with the grace of a lady who was revered for her appearance, not a trashy scank who was ready to flounce it at any given opportunity. And the men in the club took notice of the sultry lady whose mere presence demanded their attention.

Bling gave a low pleased whistle, admiring Max for everything she did right for that dress. He stood there and allowed Max to go ahead of him, out of politeness, but more because he wanted to witnesses the full effect her journey to the stage had on all the men in the audience. He was not disappointed when whistles began to emit from the crowd. He led Max up the stairs and to the left wing of the stage that was cast in a shadowy darkness from lack of any lighting above.

"I'll cue up your entrance," Bling announced, grinning from ear to ear, one hand resting on Max's arm. He removed his hand a second later to step into the bold white spotlight beaming down on the black grand piano.

"Ladies and gentleman." Bling spoke with velvety smoothness into the microphone in front of him. He played a jazzy interlude as he spoke to the audience, allowing his charismatic voice to filter through every corner of Crash. "This is your M.C. again. I want to thank you first off for being such a smokin' crowd tonight." He paused while the audience broke out in applause to praise themselves. "And now a reward for your cool patience. I present for your approval tonight, a soulful seductress who I go way back with. A songstress with plenty of flava to sava. Ladies and gentleman, Ms. Max Guevara."

Max stepped into the hot glare of the spotlight, listening to the sounds of hoots and whistles being thrown at her. She hadn't prepared any long-winded introduction of her song because she wasn't one to over inflate the greatness of her performance before a single not even escaped her mouth. She placed one hand elegantly on the microphone stand in front of her, starting to sing the lyrics of a slow seductive jazz melody.

"_You had plenty money 1922_

_You let other women make a fool of you-"_

By her second verse the men in the crowd were whistling and hooting at levels that far exceeded her entrance on stage.

Max wasn't fazed in the slightest by all of the lust filled cries of desire. Many of the patrons had already gone over the safe limit of alcohol consumption, throwing out all worries of being courteous or polite in favor of cat calling and getting hard-ons.

"_Why don't you do right, like some other men do_

_Get outta here, and get me some money too."_

"Whatever you say baby!" A young brunette man in one of the tables closest to the stage waved a ten-dollar bill in the air at Max.

The band had broken out into a steamy slow tempo interlude and Max took this opportunity to slink like a Siamese cat down the three marble steps to the floor. The spotlight clung to her every move like a raindrop on her skin.

The man ruined the crotch of his new silk suit when Max took the money from his hand with deft fingers.

"_You're sittin' here and wondering what it's all about_

_You ain't got no money they will put you out-"_

She removed the brown hat from the man's head and threw the bill inside pulling her body so close to his that if he reached out his hand he could feel up her breasts.

"_Get outta here, and get me some money too."_

She pulled away from his body leaving his senses to smell her rosewood perfume and his sex fluid that emitted after her final contact with him.

The catcalls had died down bathing Crash in the collective silent longing all the men possessed to be near Max Guevara. Colonel Lydecker's eyes observed Max's every tactful move as she slowly made her way over to his stool at the bar.

"_I fell for your jivin' and I took you in-"_

She brushed past him, picking up an empty highball glass, tilting it to examine its empty bottom.

"_Now all you've got to offer me's a drink of gin-"_

She flung the glass against the Bordeaux wine bottles stacked on the pine shelves behind Sketchy's head where it smashed into uncountable pieces.

"_Why don't you do right, like some other men do_

_Get outta here-"_

She pushed Lydecker away like a jealous lover and walked a slow circle around him.

"_Why don't you do right-"_

She slid on top of the bar.

"_Like some other me-n-"_

She placed her right hand atop the bar and leaned way over to Logan Cale who was leaning up against the bar on the other side of Lydecker. Her free hand caressed the scratchy stubble the reporter had on his face.

"_Dooo-"_

She drew out the last note in a low hot toned voice, tracing the surface of Logan's salmon tinged lips with a single dextrose finger. She drew back in exaggeration, her eyes locked on his the entire time. Her final note finally faded from her lips in a whispery vibrato and the crowd broke out into thunderous applause.

Colonel Lydecker was among those clapping for Max. "She's got a way about her doesn't she?" He turned his head towards Logan, observing the shift in emotion behind the younger man's eyes at the mention of Max. Lydecker took Logan's silence as conformation to his own views.

"Here you go Sir." Sketchy laid the whiskey class containing Scotch on the rocks on top of a napkin and slid it across the bar to Lydecker. "Wanna start a tab?"

Lydecker picked up his glass and watched the ice floating around in his drink with such rapt interest that it looked like he expected it to do something profound like leap out of the glass and start singing an overture. "No thanks kid." He finally turned away from the bottom of his glass and laid a ten-dollar bill in the spot his glass had just vacated. "This is a hard breaking habit for me so you just better make damn sure I enjoy this one hit." He flipped the money across the counter so that it landed in a nook created by Sketchy's propped up elbow on the other side of the bar.

Sketchy picked up the cash and tucked it into the front pocket of his white shirt. "Whatever you say General Grant." He moved away from Lydecker to attend to another customer.

"He's just a kid you know." Logan informed Lydecker from his seat after Sketchy was successfully flirting with a blonde wrapped up in a silver fox stole at the other end of the bar. "You don't have to play rough and make him wet himself over something as mundane as a ten-dollar drink of Scotch."

Lydecker picked up his glass again and this time instead of examining it he took a swig from it, the ice clinking against the sides of the glass at his movement. "Scotch is no more mundane then a soldier surviving 20 weeks in a hole he dug in ground behind enemy lines son." Lydecker addressed Logan as 'son' to make sure he understood who was the higher power here. "Mediocrity is a crutch people lean on so they won't be asked to reach any higher then the knob to their front doors." He rotated the glass in his hand again; observing the way the ice tumbled against itself. "Surely a man in your line of work can appreciate the individuals who drop their sob stories and just admit their inferiorities and weakness straightly."

"You make it sound like all people are nothing but a bunch of liars," Logan stated leaning his elbows on the bar, waiting to see what the Army Colonel's reaction would be.

"That's because people _are _a bunch of liars." Lydecker enlightened. He set his drink down and gazed across the room to where Max was talking to Bling at the bottom of the stage stairs. "Even that beautiful number you've been eyeing all night lies about her life to people-" A pause as he watched Max end her conversation with Bling and started making her way back through the crowd towards the bar. "She conveniently leaves out little details about her past in order to keep it hidden where no one can question her about it." The tone in which Lydecker talked about Max made Logan uncomfortable. It wasn't the casual observation made about a stranger he would pass by on the road. It was the stuff of someone who knew her beyond her first name and telephone number. He raised his body higher in an almost domineering pose on the bar stool as she drew nearer. "But the thing about lies are there are lie detectors that can scope them out."

Lydecker's eyes met Max's when she finally approached him.

"Ms. Guevara." Lydecker's voice had changed from military analytical to charismatic faster then it took to someone to blink. "I must say I am very honored to have witnessed such a flawless vocal performance."

Max stopped walking and stared at stared at Lydecker like he was a misplaced Picasso in a room full of Monet. _What the hell is he doing here anyway?_


	5. Chapter 5

**= = =CHAPTER 5 = = =**

SEATTLE – METRO MEDICAL

MAY 5, 2020

10:45 PM

"Damn-" Dr. Alan Richards, a young man built like a pro athlete, brown hair and green eyes exclaimed at Max's X-ray that a technician had just handed to him. "Her tibia's only hanging by a few bony fragments. With that kind of impact I'm surprised it didn't tear clean off and rip out of her skin."

"Sometimes you get lucky Al." The intern-Sam Marks- stated from his standing position beside the gurney that Max was lying on.

Max's blue sweater had been cut open in the ER examination and the flaps of material now hung on either side of her chest like the skin of a vivisected frog in a high school biology class. Her black bra was visible through the torn fabric. The nurses in the ER saw no need to cut it off because the bruising on her body didn't extend that high up and they wanted to leave her with some dignity in the middle of scrods of men looking at her.

Sam tried his best not to let his eyes wander to the melon shaped flesh of Max's two large breasts, reminding himself of ethics, protocol, his mother in a string thong. But nothing worked and soon he found his eyes settling on the flesh of the areola, which surrounded the tip of her nipple that had been moved out during the fast paced examination. "Man what I wouldn't give to T.U.B.E. her."

"A T.U.B.E. Sam?" Dr. Richards was not amused at the Interns suggestion.

"Yeah you know Al, Totally Unnecessary Breast Exam-"

"I know what the hell it is!" Richards spat back. He set down the X-Ray he had holding down on top of an opened suture kit resting on a metal tool tray. He walked over to a linen closet and opened its doors and grabbed a clean sheet down from the wooden shelf, unfolding its blue cotton length.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"You may find pleasure in her hanging out like this but I don't." Richards notified, draping the sheet over Max's body effectively concealing her breasts from view.

"C'mon Alan I just wanted to have a little fun, I mean the girl's stacked like the Library of Congress."

"Show some respect Sam," Richards growled trying very hard not to punch the booty-chasing intern in the face. Two weeks ago he had caught Sam in a supply closet with a volunteer worker. The man had sex on his brain every minute of every day. "The woman got sideswiped by a damn wasted punk. She might have a husband who doesn't even know she's been in a bad accident."

"I set the breaks in her left pinky Dr. Richards; she has no wedding ring on her hand." Sam responded. For some reason he believed that this was now the appropriate time to address Alan Richards with his professional credentials.

"Oh I see so that gives you the go ahead to start fantasizing about feeling her up?" Richards hissed. It wasn't a question, more like a pissed off disgusted observation. "Look Sam, I picked you as my intern because you're a good doctor. But your bedside manner sucks and if you want to work with women you need to stop thinking of them as walking boff jobs."

"Okay, okay-" Sam held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. "I'm sorry I was just having a little-"

"If you say you were just having a little fun again I'm going to come over there and punch you." Dr. Richards warned, cutting off Sam's pathetic version of an excuse. "One of the surgical nurses will be down in a minute to take her to the OR so just sit on the stool with your ass on your hands until they arrive."

"I was just joking," Sam reminded for the twelfth time in five minutes.

Dr. Richards shot him a death glare. "I don't think it was very funny-" He pointed at Max's still form with a single finger. "-and when she wakes up I know she won't either." He turned and walked out of the exam room leaving Sam alone with Max.

XXXXXX

Lydecker carried his black attaché case out to the waiting black military issued Ford SUV. The vehicle sat in the dirty gravel outside of an abandoned fish-canning warehouse that had been transformed into the Manticore Seattle Base of Operations.

"Sir!" Agent Sondaval's voice halted Deck's hand on the latch of the SUV. He ran up to him – his black trench coat flapping behind him from his quick pace.

Lydecker turned, removing his hand from the SUV. "What is it?"

"We've intersected a call made from a detective at the Seattle PD to Metro Hospital. He asked the charge nurse on duty about any young women who have been admitted in the last four hours. She knew of one that was recent."

"Do we have conformation that it was X5-452?" Deck asked.

"The nurse told the detective of a barcode tattoo on the back of the girl's neck and the detective sounded like it struck a match with his inquiry."

"Get the Alpha team ready to set up on the hospital," Deck ordered.

"Yes Sir," Sondaval responded before turning and heading inside the building to alert the Attack Team of their objective.

Lydecker climbed into the cabin of the SUV and cranked on the engine that barely made a sound because of the extreme measures that had been taken to ensure that the motor remained as silent as possible to mask the sounds of its arrival anywhere. Keeping an eye on the road he placed the black walkie-talkie to his mouth and pressed the gray call button set into the side.

"I want the name of the Seattle Detective who cold-called Metro Hospital asking about 452's whereabouts and I want it in the next five minutes."

"Yes Sir," came a staticy reply.

Deck set the radio down on the vacant bit of space on the seat beside him and rove the SUV over the hilly gravel that lead back into the city.

A thick line of Evergreen pine trees covered the land in front of the fish cannery's dirt clearing. The thirty-year-old trees were among the only things to survive the gas line rioters in 2013. Men who had been laid off by the Seattle Gas Company because of the Pulse had trip lined the entire wooded area with propane gas bombs to avoid police arrest for refusal to leave their jobs. Three acres burned that day but the ever-present rain had soaked through the bark of the older trees, effectively forming a natural shield against the flames. It was because of this that the trees miraculously remained almost completely untouched by the blaze. The land had healed over the next eight years and the only remnants of the fire that remained were the tiny flesh colored flecks of the inner pulp of several tree trunks where the orange flames burned off some of the bark before the water smoldered out their attempt.

It was behind one of these trees- a particularly winding giant with more burned knotholes on its trunk then the others – that the silhouette of a lone figure partially emerged from behind the cover that the tree had provided. The individual was a man, young, blonde, dressed in a leather jacket, ivy green shirt and faded jeans. Zack watched Lydecker's departing SUV, waiting until it completely disappeared from view before venturing out fully from his camouflage. Across from him – less then twenty yards away in the cannery's clearing – Agent Sondaval led a group of heavily armed Attack Team members into a waiting black Ford SUV – the same model as the one Lydecker had just driven off in.

"All units reconvene at the ambulance bay of Metro!" Sondaval barked out orders to the team leaders though his tone lacked the authorative command that Lydecker possessed. He was a little boy telling am elite group of trained soldiers what to do. "But nobody goes in until word is received from base command understand?"

"Yes Sir," the Attack Team leader responded moving around Sondaval to load his unit into a waiting black SUV. "Move it out!" The leader ordered to his men waving them inside the SUV's open door.

The vehicles all roared to life at almost the same time in the darkness and headed down the wet dirt road like a motorcade rally.

Zack abandoned his shelter of trees and hiked down the steep ravine –artificially created by a 20-foot high pile of fertilizer – to a pile of green tree frawns stacked in a jumbled heap beside a Hyssop Bush with wilting leaves. Zack pulled the large frawns from their resting spot and revealed a black Honda Shadow GS motorcycle hidden underneath. He threw the frawns a good ten feet away so they wouldn't get sucked into the bike's exhaust pipe and jumped on the dew damp leather saddle seat. The motor cranked powerfully and Zack raised the kickstand and took off through the trees, avoiding the main road so he wouldn't he spotted by Agent Sondaval.

XXXXXX

FOGLE TOWERS

The phone beside Logan's computer rang twice in two quick spurts before Logan got there to pick it up.

"Yeah?"

"_Logan it's Matt,"_ Detective Sung's voice came over the receiver as he sat on top of his small black desk in the middle of the police precinct. _"I think I may have what you're looking for. At 10: 05 PM a Paramedic unit responded to a 911 call by a witness who saw a Hummer slam into a woman on a black sports motorcycle at the intersection of 8th and 22nd Ave."_

Matt's information knocked the air out of Logan's lungs with the same brute force of a sledgehammer's blow. Logan fumbled behind him for his computer chair. "Are you sure it's her?"

Matt's nod could almost be heard over the phone. "_Paramedics on board the rig described the woman's features as Hispanic, early twenties, pretty. And when the searched her they turned up a Sector Pass identifying her as Max Guevara." _Matt paused because he knew it was a lot for Logan to take in. _"They took her to Metro Medical."_

"Was there any information on how bad the wreck was?" Logan was calm in his tone but inside he was shaken imagining Max being broadsided by a vehicle that easily outweighed her Ninja by 1500 pounds.

"_Only one other witnesses testimony that placed the driver of the Hummer at the Seventeen-Red Club Bar an hour before the accident occurred."_

"Are you saying that the guy who hit Max was drunk?" Logan screwed calm and went to rage.

"_It's the scenario I gave you earlier Logan. The driver was around your girlfriend's age, nineteen most likely and was stupid enough to get behind the wheel of a vehicle that really should only be operated by trained military personnel. The cops from my precinct that arrived on the scene say that the kid was babbling on and on how the light had been green on his side. But aside from being temporarily color blind the only other injury on him was a minor gash on his forehead from where he made contact with the windshield."_

"I don't think I have time to hear anymore Matt," Logan interrupted. "I need to get down to Metro." Ten years of learned restraint from having to give Eyes Only broadcasts on military rapists and political murders was the only thing preventing Logan from tracking the kid down who had careened into Max and beating him to a bloody pulp.

"_I understand,"_ Matt informed from his end. Then his voice dropped down to the personal level of a friend. _"I'm sure she'll be fine Logan. Any girl who can survive being side swiped by a two and a half ton truck is a fighter."_

"Yeah-" was the first thing Logan could think of as a response. "Thanks Matt."

"_Anytime."_ Sung replied. _"I'm just sorry for the reasoning behind it."_

Logan hung up the call after that, not wanting to bother going through the process of a formal telephone conversation good-bye. His brain was racked with nothing but thoughts on getting to Max so the basic task of standing up from his computer chair was now as complex to him as trying to solve a difficult cryptograph. Just when he was finally grasping the maneuver he had known how to do since he was three he heard the sounds of heavy foot falls on the hardwood floor directly outside his office. His hand slid quietly over to the handle of the drawer where he kept his black handgun. His fingers closed around the trigger, but before he could pull it out of the drawer a voice halted his actions.

"You might want to save bullets for a fight you can actually win." Max's brother Zack was leaning against the framed shoji screen walls like of the office casually, as if he were stopping by for a beer. Without waiting for a response Zack stepped inside Logan's office.

"As much as I'd love to get into a debate on _knocking_ before you come into somebody's house I have more pressing matters to attend to." Logan stated in an edgy voice. He never liked Zack. He considered him tolerable in the same way people put up with mosquitoes because they knew they were stuck with them.

"I know you're talking about Max's accident," Zack stated watching Logan's gaze change to bewilderment as to how he knew that. "Manticore wasn't a playground; we actually learned useful skills like recon."

"Who were you set up on to find out that Max had been in a wreck that literally happened three and a half hours ago?" Logan asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Zack replied smugly taking a step closer to Logan. "Lydecker's got feelers everywhere waiting for one of us to be exposed. One of his lackeys was conversing at base camp and he was ordered to deploy an Attack Team Unit to bring her in from the hospital."

"Well we have to stop them before they get there," Logan notified. The threat to Max's safety had just gone to a higher state of alert now that he knew Lyecker was looking for her.

"Max wouldn't be in this shit if it wasn't for you," Zack growled. He liked Logan as much as Logan liked him. "She had plenty of chances to get out of Seattle but she stayed because of your sorry ass."

"Well right now my sorry ass is the only thing standing in between her and a military convoy back to Manticore. So I suggest you work with me before you loose another sister to Lydecker."

Zack was more then pissed at Logan's choice of words. "Don't sit there and tell _me_ about who I lost to Manticore. There _my_ responsibility to look out for, got that? I'll stop Maxie from being taken back there even if I have to die to do it."

"I think we finally can agree on something," Logan said. Max was a woman they both cared for extremely. Zack was an arrogant asshole around Max 95 percent of the time by Logan knew that Zack _would_ risk his own life to save any of his brothers and sisters.

"I don't have time for this pussy shit Cale," Zack spat staring at Logan like he was reprimanding a three-year-old. "If you want to help get Maxie shut your mouth and get started." He snatched up Logan's gun from where it laid in an askew fashion on the computer desk, checking the clip for bullets. "You better be packing more then this." He clinked the gun back together in his fist and walked out with it.

Logan didn't follow immediately. He wasn't a trained dog that came at Zack's command. However, as much as he despised Zack and his cocky attitude he knew that he had to help him otherwise Max would be in a hell of a lot of trouble if Lydecker got to Metro first. If she was as bad off as he suspected her fighting skills would be amateurish for an X5 soldier. _There's no way in hell I'm letting Lydecker take her back to Manticore._ He grabbed his Aztec keys from his computer desk's middle drawer and finally trailed after Zack.


	6. Chapter 6

**= = = CHAPTER 6= = =**

SEATTLE – CLUB CRASH

MAY 5, 1944

Colonel Lydecker's eyes normally gave little away to the outside world – a product of his military training. His gaze on Max however would have disgraced his boot camp drill sergeant. To any stranger it would appear that he and Max were old acquaintances, father and daughter maybe or –even more scandalous – two former lovers wanting to rekindle the sweat of their romance. But only Max and Lydecker knew the real truth about their relationship and neither one of them was going to say anything about it.

"You gave one hell of a show Ms. Guevara," Lydecker added on to his previous comment on Max's talent.

"Isn't there a war that needs your attention out there Colonel?" Max snapped at a man she would have rather seen deep sea diving in cement shoes then right there in front of her. Lydecker was an old wound that kept constantly coming open by his own hand. _As if nine stolen years of my childhood isn't enough, he has to track me down too._

"The Nazis are being taken care of by the proper channels," Lydecker clarified, swirling the last hit of Scotch in his glass before swallowing it.

"So you decided to sit back with booze and sugar baby lays at the expense of the American tax payer." Max retorted.

"I enjoy a good Scotch only once in a while," Lydecker agreed, pulling out a single stick with his mouth from a pack of Morley's he kept in the ammunition pocket of his pants. "And as for chasing ass, I only contribute to the ones who are really hard up for cash." A stream of hazy smoke blew from his mouth.

"You're a true American Patriot." Max hated every second of her conversation with Lydecker. His cold-as-steel gaze hadn't changed in eleven years, which was the last time she had seen him.

_/FLASH: The tiny Army base hospital was packed with children – orphans, some off the streets, and a handful from a new group home that catered to kids abandoned by their parents. Nine-year-old Max sat in a plain folding chair. Her feet were bare and she swished them in front of her in such a way that her dowdy shaped youth home uniform dress fluttered away from her legs. _

_She had been waiting all day for 'her turn' to be taken into the little room at the end of the hall where the other children kept disappearing into. She had no idea what went on in that box of a room but the frightened look on the other kids' faces made her want to get whatever it was over with._

_Finally the round-bodied brunette nurse called her name and told her to go in. The first thing Max saw when she opened the room's door was a middle aged man dressed in a green Army dress uniform standing next to a sterile metal exam table with a sheet of milky plastic resting across its middle. A metal step had been pulled out from the bottom of the exam table and the Army man coaxed to use it to step up to reach the top of the table. _

_Max already didn't like the man. He was a more sterile object then the examination table. And his eyes had too much of a calming gaze for someone who dealt with piss scared kids undergoing some kind of medical exam. _

"_Ms. Guevara," the strange man addressed Max like a woman he would tip his hat to on the street. But his voice wasn't as polite as his words suggested. "NEVER keep an Army Colonel waiting."_

_Max's eyes wandered around to the countertops built in against the wall. Rows of test tubes in wooden trays lined their surfaces along with large bore syringes filled to the top marked line with a syrupy amber colored liquid. All at once a terror seized her and she no longer wanted to simply get the procedure over with; she didn't want to be there at all. She turned around and ran for the door but a strong hand gripped at her shoulder before she could even get three steps away. _

"_You have tried my patience long enough." Gone was any deception of politeness from Lydecker's tone as he forced Max to turn back around. "Now, I suggest you let me continue with _

_my procedures or they'll be hell to pay."/_

The memory of that time was permanently carved into Max's brain. It had shaped her entire adult life. After what had happened she had lost her trust in humanity. And working as a spotlight singer was a fitting job to take because of it. She sang all night – sometimes until five in the morning to gatherings of drunks, loners and pimps with their entourages of female flesh. And none of them cared anything about her except for her song and her rack. It was a perfect hiding place for a woman who wanted to forget that some people desired her for something other then her mammary glands and long legs.

It was her legs – tanned, shapely and long as eternity – that were catching the attention of Colonel Lydecker. In the turbulent war stricken time many Americans began to live with the assumption that all of the enlisted soldiers –especially those as senior in their years as Lydecker – no longer harbored any lustful desire towards women. The standing theory was that the honorable duty of defending ones country had castrated any yearning for something as trivial as sex. But Lydecker and all the other soldiers in the United States knew that this was a farce. Desire didn't dwindle away because of combat; it actually heightened it. When a soldier in the War missed his girl back home he wouldn't cry for a woman he couldn't touch overseas; he would screw a Dutch barmaid to help ease his longing.

Lydecker however admired Max not just for her voluptuous female beauty. He was more entranced with the perfectly shaped design of her entire form. He knew all people – even beautiful women – were nothing but sacks of flesh and meat strung over bones. But Max was a different kind then the usual skin coat hangers. She was an immaculate creation that Lydecker himself got to help take part in.

Max couldn't read Lydecker's mind, but she didn't give a damn what he was thinking. She didn't appreciate his eyes wandering all over her body like a doctor who had decided to brush up on his anatomy by watching a naked stripper. "This views not free," Max informed moving as much of the black fabric of her skirt as she could to cover her bare legs.

The beginning strands of "Moonlight Serenade" flowed through the air like a warm summer breeze –slow and seductive to those wrapped up in it. Max pulled her body away from Lydecker's scrutiny and took in the appealing melodic sounds coming from the live band on stage.

From his seat next to the Colonel Logan Cale silently admired the way Max cocked her head to better hear the music. She looked for all the world like a curious child deciding on whether or not the song won over her customary choice of nursery rhymes. The way she fit into her black wrap of a dress however soon threw out any beliefs that she was only just a little girl. Logan prided himself on being a gentleman; but the sultry way Max had one leg lazily crossed over the other made him want to be _anything_ but courteous and polite. _My God. I'm surprised men aren't lined up to look at her._ He had a burning desire all night to be close to her. But he _was_ still a gentleman after all and wasn't about to grab her in a fit of passion and bring her back to his bedroom and start ripping her clothes off. There was more ways to be closer to her then just sex.

He stood up from his stool, deciding to act on his impulses. When he came to a stop in front of Max Guevara she turned a sculpture perfect head to face him. There was no trace of emotion on her face but Logan got the distinct impression she was checking him out by the way her eyes roamed a second too long over his body before she met his gaze.

"Ms. Guevara," Logan politely broke the silence offering her a single upturned hand. "Would you honor me with this dance?"

Max stared at his hand as if she were unsure if it was real. She wasn't a woman who indulged admires in dance invitations because most of them men she encountered only wanted to get under her skirt. But Logan Cale looked to be a different sort of man then she was used to. She had only casually met up with him at newspaper stands where he would buy copies of the newspaper he worked for to keep clippings of his articles for himself. But each time he intrigued her. He was handsome with five o'clock stubble and eyes like the ocean; but more important then his physical appearance was his charismatic, intellectual personality that Max found incredibly sexy each time she encountered it.

"Is that a formal invitation?" Max asked finally. Sexy or not she wasn't about to make a run at Logan like he was her last chance at procreation.

"No," Logan responded, but then quickly added on to that because it sounded very much like he was subbing her. "This is hardly the setting for me to fill out your dance card. I just find pleasure in the company of beautiful women."

Max smiled – a slow pull of her lips that crept up the sides of her face. "Right answer." She accepted Logan's hand and soon found herself pulled to her feet and led out across the polished plank wood dance floor.

The 50 x 30 foot square space was already filled with a dozen couples that had come out to take advantage of the tantalizing melody of Glen Miller's jazzy creation. It was behind one of these dancing duos – an auburn haired beauty in a red plunging wrap dress and a coal black haired man in a gray zoot suit – that Logan stopped with Max. He instantly took the lead and placed one arm low on her back where her dress was absent because of the cut of the fabric. Her coffee-and-cream tanned skin was smooth and warm under his hands. _God she's beautiful even where I can't see._

"Thanks," Max suddenly blurted out as she reached her hand up and interlaced her fingers with his.

Logan looked down at her in confusion. "For what?" He guided her body to the sultry rhythm they had been presented to dance with.

Max glanced sideways to where Lydecker was still positioned like a statue at the barstool. His gray green eyes were still on her. "Gettin' me out of a hot spot," she finally answered Logan's question, falling instep with all of his leading moves.

_I'm in a hot spot right now._ "I don't think it was something that you couldn't handle," he responded in an all-knowing tone. "I mean you seem like the kind of woman who can take care of herself."

"It's not exactly a desired trait," Max informed, swinging around when he turned her body to go with a slow waltzing jazz note. "Most men are turned off to a girl who won't indulge in their 'protection of the fairer sex' deal."

"It's their loss," Logan said truthfully. "Personally I don't find the whole 'damsel in distress' act appealing whatsoever. Women fought a hard battle for their independence and equality and now some of them want to fall back on the stereotype of a helpless, sexually alluring plaything that men placed on them in the first place."

"An honest reporter," Max questioned in disbelief. "I thought you guys didn't exist."

"And up until now I never believed a woman existed who placed such high regards on her prowess to speak."

"How about we reach a quid pro quo?" Max suggested. "You believe in my existence and I'll believe in yours."

"It doesn't take a quid pro quo to tell me how very real you are Ms. Guevara-"

"Max," she corrected.

"Max," the name rolled of Logan's tongue like a melting ice cube. "Since we're being informal, my name is Logan."

"I think I may have read that name below the titles of a few articles."

"You did?" Logan stated in a rhetorical question. "I hope then that you like what you saw there."

"Not as much as I like what I'm seeing now," Max responded, smiling just steamy enough that Logan wished for nothing more then a bucket of ice water to dump over himself.

"Moonlight Serenade" finally faded away into a soft lingering after taste of a note. The pleased dances stopped in their hot moves for a moment to applaud the band on stage.

"_Thank you ladies and gentleman; we'll be here all night."_ Bling spoke into his microphone on stage.

Logan's arms were still connected to Max's body long after the crowd around them had left to reclaim their tables. He found himself unable to pull away from her.

Finally Max had to initiate their break of contact by 'undoing' his arm from across her back, though her actions held a discernable reluctance. "Thanks for the dance."

He could've said something terribly witty but all words had escaped him the moment he felt her hands on his. After several long seconds had elapsed Logan finally said in a low spoken voice: "It was my pleasure."

Max smiled like a Cheshire cat, pulling away from his body heat, suddenly finding the dance floor much larger then she had remembered. But she didn't want to contemplate it because then she might start justifying doing something completely ridiculous like impose Logan Cale for another dance. She turned on one heal and left him standing there looking at her in a longing and stunned silence. She had hoped Colonel Lydecker would be gone by the time she had returned but unfortunately fate was against her because he was still sitting on the same barstool she had left him at. Only one difference was noticeable in the scene at the bar –the previously vacant stool to the right of Lydecker was now filled.

The occupant was a man in his mid-twenties, light blonde hair and beach blue eyes; at least that was the police composite description of him. Closer examination revealed him to be handsome, but unlike like Logan Cale, whose handsomeness derived from a combination of intellectualism and elegant good looks this man's attractiveness was based on pure reeking sex. His navy blue pinstripe suit hung off him like it had been taylor made to show off his muscled physique. A burgundy silk tie completed the suit flowing down a white linen shirt like a drying blood trail. A dark black fedora hat rested in a slight slant atop his head revealing small peaks of slicked golden blonde hair. He was sitting on the barstool, one long leg braced on the ground turning burnt brown eyes over to the scantily clad female escorts of gangsters and pimps that were checking him out as they passed.

"Just merchandise son," Colonel Lydecker relayed beside the man. The women who had been eyeing the Colonel before had now switched their attention to the hot stud of a man beside him.

"Nothing but pretty wrappers and phony slogans."

"That's what most of this cities' about," the younger man returned in a voice as every bit as sexy as his appearance suggested. "If you can't find pleasure in that you might as well castrate yourself." He craned his head back to throw back the last remaining bit of his rum, slamming the empty glass back down on the bar when he was finished.

"You wouldn't castrate yourself around that-" Lydecker corrected, nodding at Max who was standing –legs slinked apart – a foot away observing the two men like oil and water had suddenly found a way to converge.

The man turned to the woman Colonel Lydecker was verbally admiring. "You're a sick bastard you know that?" It wasn't that this man didn't find Max alluring; it was just disgusting to lust after a woman who happened to be his sister.

"Is it the hooch or the flesh that attracted you here Zack?" Max asked from her observation point.

The man now identified as 'Zack' turned his head to face her. He took a long seducing glance at his empty rum glass before averting his eyes up to her and answered her earlier question: "Both."

Max screwed up her face and walked the rest of the way to the bar. "I could've gone all night without thoughts of incest runnin' through my head." She pushed past him and snatched his empty glass sniffing the remnants of its contents coating the balls of ice. "Maybe this had somethin' to do with you hitting on your sister."

"Rum is a light hit for me Maxie," Zack informed calling her by the pet name he had given to her when they were just kids. He watched her set his glass down and then said: "You lookin' for some proofs to lick up try setting up a bar tab."

"I only take a few hits. I _don't_ need a receipt to keep track of them all like you."

Zack couldn't help but smile at this – a slow pulling back of his lips that made women agonize over him to finish it so they could see it in its sexy entirety. "Heard that you were layin' out the chops earlier; you were smooth." Zack was a master at changing the subject.

"I thought you weren't an admirer of the art of jazz." Max stated.

"I'm an admirer of anything you put down baby sister." Zack returned.

"When did that start?" Max teased.

"I'm not sure," Zack came back, falling into their old game of verbally dancing around each other.

Max smiled now; it had become easier after Zack had initiated it. Neither one of them were people who smiled often; so when one of them did it was a sight to see. "Now _that_ sounds more like the brother I know."

"Who was that guy you were dancing with?" was Zack's next question.

"None of your business," Max told him matter-of-factly.

"You said you wanted me sounding like the brother you know," Zack insisted.

Max knew that he had snagged her on that remark but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. "It was innocent. And I'm a grown woman, I would do it even if it wasn't." Her response as straight forward – something that Zack was forced to respect.

"My apologizes to the Spitfire Girl," Zack stood up from the stool – reaching his full height of 5'9" – and tilted a square chin down to Max.

"If you don't mind my saying so –" Lydecker's voice cut into the mixture of Max and Zack's "It's very –'refreshing' to witnesses you two resurrect the lost art of sibling protectiveness and raw rivalry. Families nowadays barely make time for such trivial matters."

"Well no one cares what you think," Zack deadpanned.

"You were always a smart ass son." Lydecker wasn't fazed at all by Zack's threat. He had heard that kind of line from him before when Zack was much younger.

_/FLASH: "What are you doing?" The young blonde boy – a twelve-year-old Zack – asked. He was sitting on a sterile metal exam table with noting on except for a pair of plain cloth boxer shorts. _

_A long syringe hovered directly above his right bicep held in Lydecker's poised hand. "This is an inoculation."_

_Zack snorted. "I've already had my shots old man; you're wasting your time."_

"_This is a different kind of inoculation son," Lydecker stated in point black fact._

"_Oh really-" Zack was as convinced of this as he was of magical elves living inside his testicals. "What am I being inoculated against?"_

_Lydecker stared at him emotionless before advancing the needle inside his arm responding flatly: "Yourself./_

"And you were always hung up on fucking with little kids." Zack's words were a hissing growl. The hostility between him and Colonel Lydecker was larger then any form of measurement could calculate. "Maybe that's why you rushed home so fast from the European Theatre; couldn't wait to try out all the latest Nazi experiments on your guinea pigs." Zack was 26 now but the memories of what had happened to him when he was 12 were as fresh to him as if they had just occurred last night. Countless procedures had been performed on him and then he was left to the after effects inside a cell no bigger then a janitor's closet. And he wouldn't be alone. Through the bars of his prison he could see Max curled up in a tiny ball on a thin naked mattress in another cell, fighting not to throw up because she had already done so then times in three hours and had nothing left to come up.

"Nazi technology isn't new Zack," Lydecker responded tersely. "You think that the Third Reich was the only group that saw the value of experimentation on live subjects? They didn't create it; they stole it from others and added on their own sick little twists."

"That's a strange remark coming from am man who made it a hobby of luring kids off the street in order to perform torturous medical experiments on them," Max snapped like a tigress at Lydecker. She didn't know why he had come there tonight but she wanted his ass gone.

"You – Ms. Guevara – owe your very existence on my medical experiments," Lydecker matched her hostility through one cool, authorative voice. "Because if it wasn't for me you'd be a starving mongrel begging for food on the streets."

"I must've missed somethin' cause I can't recall the moment you slipped that glass slipper on my foot and brought me back to live in your castle." Max returned.

Lydecker could have responded to this any way he wanted to – rage, a well placed male dominating quip – but he instead chose to laugh dryly, a rattling sound like wind blowing through a collection of dead leaves. "I knew there was something that separated you from the others I picked up. That kind of live wire wit can't be taught, not even by me."

"Gee thanks for the pep talk _dad_," Max stated sarcastically. She didn't take the kind of 'complements' Colonel Lydecker dished out. She recoiled from him and slid into the next stool like he had just tried to put non-reciprocated moves on her.

She tapped one hand on the bar jolting Sketchy out of his daydream about the blonde pinup girl on the Coca-Cola calendar that was hanging on the wall. "Hit me up with somethin' that would get a drunk faded."

"That would be a Vodka Stinger," Sketchy announced laying an empty Collins glass down in front of her and started to pour out the clear liquor from a long necked glass bottle. "75 percent Vodka and 25 percent lime juice." He poured the latter into the drink as he spoke and stirred it with a cobalt blue glass swizzle stick.

"That's only 95 percent," Max corrected.

"You can't compare lime juice and Vodka Max," Sketchy insisted as he removed the swizzle and held out the glass out in front of her.

"Another free thinker hiding behind the booze, who'da thought?" Max slammed back her drink keeping her expression normal despite the fact that she now knew why they called it a Vodka _Stinger._

Sketchy watched her lay the glass back down that was now emptied halfway. "This out of character drainage of alcohol on your part suggests that you've got something itching on your very sexy brain. And I'm paid to watch you scratch it."

"The thing is Sketch-" Max swirled what was left of her drink and stole a glance over at Lydecker. "The harder you scratch, the more it itches-" She broke off when a slip of folded paper fell into her lap.

She picked it up and pulled apart its square shaped fold to reveal one phrase handwritten in black ink:

_Meet me at the back entrance_.

Max looked up into the crowd to see who had 'mailed' the message to her. The hardcore pimps were all enthralled at having their girls take turns sitting on their laps over their throbbing crotches and none of them even noticed her. It was after she had dismissed their involvement in the matter that her eyes came across Logan Cale watching her from the back entrance of Crash.


	7. Chapter 7

**= = = CHAPTER 7 = = =**

SEATTLE

MAY 5, 2020

11:30 PM

Logan sat – surprisingly – in the passenger seat of his Aztec. He had reluctantly allowed Zack the wheel so he could access Metro Medicals patient records on his IMAC laptop.

"What the hell is taking so long?" Zack snipped turning his attention towards Logan. "All you had to do was pull up a single record."

A street lamp flanking the road lit up the glare Logan was now shooting Zack. "The mainframe is a triple blocked system of encryption and it takes time to get past all the firewalls."

"_Or_ you're just incompetent and hide behind a camera and a red, white and blue banner." Zack kept driving in formation with the road despite that he wasn't paying attention to where he was going. He was rather relying on his heightened sense of hearing to pick up any sounds of the tires bumping into the reflectors that divided the lanes or the sounds of him veering off the road itself. "I really have no fucking clue what Maxie sees in you. The flaws just rack up."

"You can hate me all you want Zack but the fact remains Lydecker wants Max back at Manticore and I'm going to do everything in my power to prevent that from happening." Logan typed hurriedly on the keys ignoring any death looks Zack was giving him.

A silence normally reserved for after two men had fought each other to the death in an ancient battle hung in the air. Logan was far too concerned for Max's safety to keep indulging Zack's pissy tirades.

"It's numeric," Zack said suddenly.

Logan turned his head: "What?"

"The password to get to Max's file," Zack returned exasperated, watching Logan stare back at his laptop screen where the curser was blinking next to a blank field of 12 spaces separated by a hyphen. "A sequence of four and eight. Standard Seattle Sector Passcode. My guess is that in order to access Max's file you need to use her number – that is if you have it off hand."

"4357-94310058," Logan rattled off the numbers to Zack as he typed them in on the field. "You're not the only one who excels in numerics. I have Max's information encrypted on a zip drive in case of emergency."

"Damn you_ are_ hung up on her aren't you?" Zack retorted finally turning his eyes back to the road that was lit up like a Christmas tree by the taillights of cars that created a heavy clogging traffic.

Logan ignored Zack's jeer and after hitting 'Enter' on his keyboard he found himself viewing Max's file logged into Metro's files just several hours earlier. "I'm in," Logan announced reading the first part of Max's record. "MVA; multiple abrasions, contusions on ribs, concussion, broken tibia. Sent up to surgery at 10:45." Max's injuries became drastically more real now that they were presented right in front of him. _She was at my place two hours ago. How could things go so damn wrong in one night?_ He still clung to some semblance of order because he would need it to get to Max on time and because he didn't want to give Zack something else to shoot his mouth off about.

"She's only been in the OR for 30 minutes-" Zack began, lowering his right foot down heavier on the accelerator. "Any kind of bone to bone reconstruction will take at least an hour. The best bet is to recon the room they set her up in after surgery and get her out before Lydecker and his Merry Men storm the building."

"What if she's not stable enough to be moved?" Logan asked an obvious question. Max would have just gotten out of reconstructive surgery; she would be weak and any fast movement might do her more damage.

Zack mentally blew off Logan's question. "Maxie's been through worse shit then this before." His voice shifted from pissy to a fierce protectiveness. "There's no fuckin' way in hell I'm leaving her lying in the middle of an ambush. We're soldiers and the 'no man left behind' rule applies for her."

Logan didn't add to that; he knew there was nothing to challenge about that remark. "Lydecker's got only one shot at removing Max from the building; the shift change at the nurses station."

"The man is traveling with a Manticore recon squad. He doesn't have to wait for an all clear to be given," Zack hissed.

"He does if he doesn't want to risk public exposure," Logan rectified looking over a layout of Metro Medical. "All the floors have fire stairs that all lead to the ground floor-"

"Forget that," Zack cut in. "Outside stairways are too exposed. Not even Deck could lead and Attack Team up them without being noticed."

"Which is why I think Lydecker will send a unit to rendezvous at them as a decoy. Then he'll slip in quietly with one or two soldiers and get to Max before any security can be alerted."

Zack went silent for a moment, thinking, then asked finally: "When's the next shift roll over?" He wasn't starting to develop a tolerance for Logan; he just expected him to know the answer because he had hacked into the system.

"One AM," Logan read the information off the screen. "Nurses update each other on the statues of the patients on their floor at each new shift. That leaves us with about a ten minute window to get inside without being stopped."

"That's five minutes more then I need," Zack enlightened.

"Is everyone in your family this arrogant?" Logan snapped taking his eyes off the laptop screen and focusing them on the X5.

Zack glared back at him. "You might wanna cath yourself cause I'm about open this bitch up." He completely floored the accelerator causing the Aztec to excel over 105 miles an hour. Zack weaved the car in and out of traffic going slower then him not even bothering to honk acting like he was in a car at the Indy 500.

_This is for Max._ Logan kept reminding himself. The voice of someone screaming 'jag off' at Zack out their car window echoed like a tunneled sound when the Aztec swirled past them. _And as soon as Max is safe I'm going to hurt Zack._

XXXXXXXXX

METRO MEDICAL CENTER – ROOM #312

11: 45 PM

Nurse Ariel Randolph checked the monitor settings on the EKG machine set up beside Max's hospital bed. It had taken the orthopedic surgeon 45 minutes to set the breaks in Max's tibia bone with a steel pin. But Metro had run out of plaster to create a cast so the surgical team improvised by placing thin metal endoscopic rods around the lower leg to immobilize the break and held them in place by wrapping burn dressings around them. After completing their task the surgeons couldn't help patting themselves on the back. High technology had made simple improvisation such as this almost non-existent to the knowledge of the doctors; and after setting Max's leg many of them felt the exhilarating rush they all had after that first day of med school.

Max lay motionless under the watchful eye of Nurse Randolph who couldn't help admiring the stunning beauty of her patient that wasn't marred at all by her injuries. "Ill bet someone's worried as hell about you." Ariel liked to talk to her patients even if they weren't consciousness. Many of her colleagues had given up on the art of being a softhearted health care worker, but not her. She hated seeing the way some of them treated their patients, like they weren't even human.

"Hopefully someone told them where you are." Ariel continued talking to her charge while checking the output flow of the IV bag hanging on the metal 'tree' beside the monitors. Ariel hadn't seen a ring on Max but she was too beautiful of a woman to be single. "You were lucky Ms. Guevara." Ariel looked down on her. "The car that hit you outweighed your bike by 2,000 pounds and a broken leg is really all you sustained from it."

Ariel rounded the bed and took a standing position at the head of it. She placed Max's chart back in the plastic caddy in the footboard. "I'll come back and check on you later." She turned and left the room.

XXXXXX

"_Sir!"_ The Alpha team leader – a lanky, but well muscled soldier – called out on Lydecker's radio frequency.

From his armor plated SUV Lydecker picked up his radio. "Go ahead squadron leader."

"_We're about seven miles from the target area. ETA five minutes."_

"Establish a perimeter at points Bravo, Romeo and Zulu but hold positions until I arrive."

"_Rodger that Sir. We'll be awaiting further instructions."_ The Attack Team leader responded through the static before the call ended.

Lydecker had interrogated Detective Matt Sung to no end over the phone about his knowledge of Max but Sung kept spouting off official privacy codes of the Seattle PD that allowed him to withhold any information from outside sources unless a court order was obtained. Lydecker was pissed as hell at the civilian Detective's refusal to talk and even threatened Sung with immediate dismissal from the police force before hanging up on him.

The ring from Lydecker's silver cell phone cut through the quiet hum of the SUV's air conditioner. He reached over and snatched it from the passenger seat and flipped it open: "Lydecker."

"_Hello Deck."_ The voice on the other end of the line was unmistakably female, but with a complete lack of any feminine frilly undertones. Anna Renfro wasn't a woman who did 'girly'; it wouldn't' fit in with her job as standing Director of Manticore. _"I was calling for a status report." _Renfro leaned back in her high back leather chair before elaborating more._ "I understand you're initiating a take down of an X5 who's been side swiped in an MVA. _The last portion of her words was phrased in a disbelieving question on the nature of their extreme luck

"You've already broken through my secure line to find out covert information. You should be able to figure out this one on your own." Lydecker insisted.

"_You're a true hearted cynic,"_ Renfro concluded. _"No wonder being CO to a bunch of modified genetics suits you so well."_

"I don't have time to listen to your Director ideology bullshit," Lydecker barked maneuvering the SUV around a sloping curve in the road.

"_X5-452's unconscious; she's not going anywhere."_ Renfro reminded. "_Just make sure she's stable enough for transport back to Manticore. Our doctors here can speed up her healing process. I want her up to full status before her re-education back into the program."_

"I believe I'm already on that," Deck told her. He hated Anna Renfro with a passion. She was a moronic figurehead who bribed her way into the top of Manticore. "Was there anything relevant you wanted to tell me?"

"_Understand that I'm cleaning up YOUR mess. If you had done your job 11 years ago those kids of yours wouldn't have escaped and I wouldn't have to divert every resource just to get them back!"_

"452 is my problem Anna-" Lydecker stated addressing Renfro by her first name, not because he wanted to be polite. It was just either calling her that or 'bitch' and would rather call her a bitch to her face. "I will remedy the situation."

"_She's my problem too."_

"No – she isn't." Lydecker responded tersely, disconnecting the call.

XXXXXXX

The black military SUV convoy carrying the Alpha Attack Team rolled to a halt in the Ambulance Bay of Metro Medical. The doors slid open and soldiers – covered head to toe in Kevlar body armor and carrying M-20 laser sighted rifles – poured out of the interior like a swarm of Army Ants.

The team leader began to bark out orders to his men: "Check points at Bravo, Romeo and Zulu, go go go!" After issuing Lydecker's instructions the young officer directed his attention to Agent Sondaval who was examining a mapped layout of the building. "Sir," The Alpha Team leader addressed Sondaval. "Colonel Lydecker asked me to relay a message to you."

This peaked Agent Sondaval's interest. "What is it?"

"The Colonel said to tell you that the next time you undermine his authority with Director Renfro he'll skin you alive and make pup tents out of your flesh." Lydecker knew Sondaval too well to believe that the man would obey his order and keep his status on finding Max from Renfro. Renfro hired Sondaval personally and he kissed her ass from Day One.

Agent Sondaval visibly recoiled from the threat Lydecker had given him, knowing that the man was fully capable of carrying out such a gruesome task. "Was there anything else?"

"No Sir," the soldier responded crisply with traces of a smug smile coming over his features before he expertly masked it and redirected his attention back to his task. "Zulu, this is Alpha are you in position?"

"_Rodger base Alpha,"_ the Zulu group radioed back from their position overlooking the emergency stairwell. "_We're in position and fully loaded."_

"Copy that Zulu. Maintain positions until word is reached from Colonel Lydecker."

"_Rodger, Zulu out."_

After confirming the positions of the Bravo Unit that was holding on the emergency's stairwell's middle landing the Attack Team leader glanced back to Agent Sondaval who looked completely out of place in his cooperate suit amidst the black Kevlar worn by the soldiers. "You should be glad Sir that Colonel Lydecker hadn't arrived yet," the Alpha leader's smug smile was back. "Talk about saving your skin."


	8. Chapter 8

**= = = CHAPTER 8= = = **

SEATTLE – CLUB CRASH

MAY 5, 1944

Max pushed open the back door of Crash, ignoring the bouncer's eye roam over her breasts. _Prick._ The area directly behind the club was a typical Seattle alleyway; littered with empty beer crates and cigarette cartons around the empty aluminum trashcans they were supposed to be thrown in but seldom were.

The streetlights across the alleyway cast an impressionists swirl of colors on puddles of spilt bear and semen that were pooled on the cracked pavement. Max's black heel sloshed through this as she stepped away from Crash.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

Max turned around to see Logan standing beside an upturned trashcan watching her with rapt interest.

"That's not how I do things," Max let him know. "If I wanted to bail on your ass I would've told you to your face."

Logan had to smile at her straightforwardness. "Well I'm glad you didn't." She was still gorgeous even in the poor lighting.

"Is that all?" she snapped. "Cause if this is your version of charmin' a girl I'm heading back inside."

"Some girls don't need to be charmed," Logan returned stepping into the liquid scum on the road. "They're already charming enough on their own."

"I'm gone," Max said having effectively lost her already short amount of patience. "Not that this whole gum shoe dealio hasn't been a smash but I've gotta see a bartender about a drink." She turned to leave but Logan grabbed her arm.

"Hey I'm trying to help you!"

"You're the one who's gonna need help if you don't let go of me." Max's words were a dangerous growl; one that said she had taken men out for less then this.

Logan released her arm, or rather Max yanked away from him. Her eyes were now on fire with livid anger. "I know about your connection with Colonel Lydecker Max," Logan told her.

_/FLASHBACK: Colonel Lydecker paced in front of Max and Zack who were seated at school desks in a nondescript steel walled room. _

"_Before today you were nothing but street mongrels belonging to no one." Each word from Lydecker cut through the air like the release of a guillotine's blade. "But thing's have changed." He stopped pacing and leaned over the two kids, staring them right in their faces. "Because now your belong to me."/_

"I don't know what you're talking about," Max feigned complete denial to something that she knew all-to-well to be true.

"I find that hard to believe coming from someone who has lied their entire lives."

Max whirled on him like a fast approaching storm. "One dance together doesn't give you the go ahead to start analyzing me."

"I know who you are Max."

"Oh well then _please_ let me in on it cause I've been amnesiac up until now."

"July 1934; you were most likely a nine-year-old girl living a barely there existence on the streets when a convoy of Army officials pulled up on the corner you were sleeping on saying that you needed to be inoculated against the rising threat of Smallpox." Logan watched Max's expression shift ever so slightly but she quickly covered it up with a well-placed mask. "Except that when they took you to their facility you found yourself being subjected to gene therapy and thrown into military confinement with dozens of other kids Colonel Lydecker pulled off the street.

_/FLASHBACK: Max looked around her tiny iron prison and into the faces of at least 15 kids all in cells like hers. In the next cell over to her was a blonde boy; 12-yeasrs-old with no shirt on because the countless needle punctures on his forearm had left them tinged in huge bluish-black bruises that hurt too much to make contact the sleeves of any shirt._

_The boy met her eyes. His face held a grimace that he didn't dare release but still a lone tear fell down his cheek./_

"So you know a few hard facts about me, so what? Are you planning to black mail me for the torture I went through as a kid?" Max's eyes were enraged and defensive. She had no idea how the hell a civilian reporter knew about what had happened to her.

Despite the tense mood of the situation Logan thought that Max's sexiness only heightened when she was pissed off. "I find it hard to believe that you aren't surprised that the Army Colonel who committed these tortuous acts on you was just cozying up to you at the bar."

"If those are cozying up techniques Colonel Lydecker's gonna have some serious issues with landing a date."

"He won't have time for one," Logan responded cryptically. "I did some checking. Your Colonel Lydecker called up a group of young recruits to aid in a covert military unit he calls Class X. But for a group of wartime soldiers they seem to have more of an interest in tracking down a group of street kids that escaped from one of their hosptial wards."

_Except that it wasn't a hospital. Hospitals don't have steel cells._ Max still held onto her swirling emotions with expert skill. She felt that if Logan Cale kept up his round of questioning she wouldn't be able to keep denying to true nature of what had happened to her all those years ago.

"Why are you telling me this?" Max asked. Denial had become one of her true companions throughout all the shit, and it was a hard friend to try and blow off.

Logan stared at her for an instant as if she had just asked him why he had been born male. But he broke out of his musings to answer her in a no nonsense real warning: "Because I saw three of these Class X soldiers enter Crash with Lydecker to look for you."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

BACK INSIDE CRASH

The band had started up again playing the beginning base chords of "Minnie the Moocher".

"Ladies and gentleman," Bling's voice boomed sleek and hot into the mic by the piano. He had donned his white suit jacket, which flattered his sizzling coca brown body extremely well. "Give it up again for Miz. Original Cindy!"

The crowd started to whistle as the spotlight illuminated Original Cindy and her sensual voice cut through the air, getting all of the drunkards to abandon looking at their glasses in favor of looking at her.

"_Hey folks here's the story about Minnie the Moocher,_

_She was a low down hoochie coocher_

_She was the roughest, toughest frail –_

_But Minnie had a hard as big as a well_

_Hidey Hidey Hidey Ho-"_

The men in the audience echoed back Original Cindy's scat intermingling it with whistles and cast calls.

"_Hodey hodey hodey ho-"_ Cindy growled out throwing her body back in climatic pleasure, thrusting her shapely figure back up against the microphone stand a second later.

"_She had a dream about the King of Sweden_

_He gave her things that she was needin'_

_A rollin' home built of gold and steel_

_A diamond car with the platinum wheel-"_

Cindy accepted the hand from Bling as she climbed up on the back of the baby grand and began to scat again.

"_Hidey Hidey Hidey Hidey Hi-_

_A Hodey Hodey Hodey Ho-_

_Skit ta skit ta doodley skit ta zhoy-"_

The crowd jumped to their feet in hooting impressed by her quick lyrical tongue. They were all so absorbed in watching the sultry woman throw it down on stage that none of them noticed Colonel Lydecker conversing with a group of young uniformed Army Privates by the bar. Lydecker pointed out Zack to them who had moved across the room in order to buy a stick of gum from the cigarette girl.

"I want him alive," Lydecker ordered in muted tones.

"Yes Sir," the highest-ranking soldier –a Lance Corporal – responded waving the other men over to converge on Zack.

As they pushed their way through the oblivious crowd Original Cindy grinded out the finial verse of her song on stage:

"_They took her away – they called her crazy_

_Now poor old Min she is kickin' up daises_

_This is my my story – this ends my song_

_She was just a good girl but they done her wrong-"_

"Thanks doll," Zack dropped fifty cents into the cigarette girl's money till for the stick of Wrigley's gum, popping the piece into his mouth.

The girl smiled at him through her cherry red lipstick, sauntering off to give Zack ample view of her legs with the seam line of artificial pantyhose drawn on with lip liner.

Zack had to admit that the girl had nice legs, but he caught the sight of Army green pushing through the crowd to get him and he soon forgot about her.

The lead soldier reached into his pocket on Cindy's cresendoing note:

"_Oh yeah, Min-nie!"_

Zack reached into his own pocked and drew out a .45 caliber Smith and Wesson handgun and aimed it them the same instant the Lance Corporal pointed his Colt Revolver at his chest.

The other soldiers all drew out their identical weapons and cocked them at Zack.

A woman in the audience screamed at the site of the armed men.

"Glad you got everyone's attention," Zack said cockily. "Now we can make it an official party."

"Throw down your weapon!" the soldier ordered.

"Now that wouldn't be a fair fight would it?" Zack stated.

Lydecker emerged from the crowd stepping right in front of Zack. "Oh I think it would be more then fair." He stared Zack down as if deciding whether or not to off a rabid dog.

The creaking of the back door was so loud that two of the soldiers from the group of four took aim with their weapons at the noise.

Max stepped through the door but stopped in a dead halt at the sight of the guns in her face. "Aww, you should've invited me to the to festivities."

"Come inside-" one soldier warned keeping close aim on Max and Logan as they stepped inside.

Logan quietly shut the door behind him all the while eyeing the Colt revolvers poised at his body trying to move as little as possible so as not to get his ass shot off.

Max took a long step closer to the Lance Corporal looking down the muzzle of his gun. "Is that a gun cocked at me soldier or are you just happy to see me?" Her lips pressed together in a sexy pout that she gave him ample view of.

"This doesn't concern you Miss," the LC hissed.

"What the hell do you mean it doesn't concern her?" Lydecker snapped approaching them pushing through the group of silent on lookers. All the men that had hooted and whistled provocative suggestions at Max now stared at her in stunned silence wondering what she could have done to warrant a gun battle on her.

"She's not what we came here for," the LC clarified to Lydecker. "She's a bar dancing slut for god sakes!"

Lydecker's eyes became even harder at that retort – not for the slut part but because the young tender foot soldier had no real idea what the hell his target _was._ "Rule number one of this game soldier-" Lydecker remarked glancing over at Max who hadn't moved from her position. "Never underestimate your objective."

The soldier was shocked. "_Her?"_ He shot a sideways glance at Max in her tight black dress and sky high heals. "If she's the threat I have to take down I'll sure enjoy it."

"I've had enough of your bullshit Corporal," Lydecker growled in the man's ear.

"Defending my honor Colonel Lydecker?" Max retorted with her smart mouth despite all the guns trained on her. "You shouldn't have."

"I'm not," Lydecker returned coldly taking out his own gun – a five-chambered Beretta – and aimed it at her. "I'm defending mine."

The sound of another gun cocked – a silver Colt 22 grasped in the hand of Logan Cale. "Then I suggest you put away your gun or else you're going to have to defend a whole lot more then just your honor."

Lydecker wasn't intimidated by the weapon. Logan was only one man and Lydecker had four armed soldiers with him. It was an unfair fight, and that's just the way Lydecker liked it. "What do you plan to do with that gun son? If you so much as hover your finger over the trigger I will fix it so that the next mention of your name in the paper will be in the obituaries."

"What's the matter Mr. Army Man?" Max taunted. "Can't even do your own dirty work?"

Lydecker glowered at her so hateful that a lesser prissier woman would have started balling like an infant. He quickly flipped his gun around in his hand and rapped it across the side of Max's face causing her to reel back from the force.

A symphony of cocking guns echoed around the club as every pimp and gang leader pulled out their personal pieces they had stashed on them.

Lydecker looked around the room at all the weapons pointed at him and his men. "I thought you free thinkers didn't give a damn about reasonable violence."

"Reasonable violence they don't have a problem with," Sketchy aimed a .22 caliber rifle at Lydecker. "It's your whole shockingly rude manners towards a lady that's got them up in arms."

Even the straight up pimp beside his assortment of hookers glared at Lydecker from the barrel of a Smith and Wesson.

"Gentleman-" Max stated stepping in between the guns and Lydecker. "I appreciate you all showin' off your armories to defend a lady's rep-" she spit a mouthful of blood at Lydecker's feet. "But seein' as how I'm not a lady I've got some shockingly rude manners of my own to dish out." Max reached around to the back of a soldier's neck and snapped it with her bare hand. The soldier gasped and fell to the ground before he could even squeeze of a shot from his gun.

The other three soldiers advanced on Max but she knocked two of them to the ground with a kick to their heads from her healed shoes. The third soldier lined up a shot point black at Max's heart but before he could fire a bullet tore through his arm from Zack's gun.

The soldier looked stunned at the sight of his own blood oozing out of a neat little hole in his shoulder before he finally fell to the ground next to the still form of the man Max had taken out.

Lydecker looked down at his dead and injured men, not caring about them beyond the fact that he was now without backup. He looked over to Zack with something of a pleasing expression on his face. "You still have good aim Zack."

"No I don't," Zack corrected setting his barrel on Lydecker. "I was aiming for your balls. I wanted the challenge of hitting such a puny target." He now stood toe to toe with Lydecker, glaring down at him like the Alpha Male of a wolf pack.

Lydecker actually smiled. "I see you haven't lost your attitude either." He stole a glance at Max. "But then again you would do anything to protect another vagabond street rat like yourself wouldn't you?"

Zack pressed the cold maw of his gun against the side of Lydecker's head. "Ask me the question again." He turned his head to the people in the crowd. "You guys wanna lay down some cover for a fellow street vagabond so we can get out of this hot spot craphole?"

"We got your back," proclaimed a young West Indian born well built man in a navy blue zoot suit aiming a black Cobra handgun at Lydecker.

"I'll lead," Original Cindy stated climbing down from the stage slowly so she wouldn't trip over her long skirt but with with a manner of dangerous authority. She stepped right over to Lydecker and bitch slapped him. "That's payback for what you did to my girl. If I catch you knocking on her again I'm gonna skip the light dealio and deal a full blown smack down on your ass."

Lydecker didn't do anything after Cindy had slapped him knowing that she wasn't a real threat. At 5'7" and 135 pounds her biggest threat posed was her mouth. Original Cindy turned to Max mentally cringing at the thin trickle of red that had stained her friend's lip from where she spat out the blood. "Let's roll sugah," Cindy announced starting to walk to through the crowd.

Max started to follow Cindy but stopped when she was Logan following her. "What the hell are you doin'?"

"What? Do you think I'm just going to ditch you after things get a little heavy?" Logan answered. He didn't like the idea of being considered target practice to a bunch of hot head soldiers but he wasn't going to leave Max at their mercy.

"You'd be following in the footsteps of every other male," Max stated.

"Ladies less talk more walk," Zack interrupted.

Max glared at Zack but she was equal to his snide remark and responded: "Yes ma'am." She followed Cindy's trail through the crowd that had parted purposely for them.

Zack brought up the rear re-loading his gun chamber and cocking it at Lydecker. "If you try and follow us I'll make you a woman."

XXXXXXX

Original Cindy led the group following her down a small set of four stairs that led to a while long clapboard wall full of black and white photographs of great jazz legends that had appeared at the club. There was Billie Holiday, Prez, Jabar. Next to an autographed photo of Miles Davis sat a metallic silver sconce that Cindy grasped a hold of and after giving a solid tug the metal complied and bent straight out before pulling back into its former position. The wall that seemed solid just moments before now swung open by hinges that had been made small enough to be cleverly concealed in between the tiny crack slits in between the clapboard.

Cindy stepped down a single step quickly ushering in the others before shutting the door to the hidden room with a loped rope that had been embedded into the opposite side of the wall for just that reason. After the door was closed she started dead bolting it with three sets of tempered steel locks.

"You runnin' a moonshine business on the DL?" Zack asked watching Cindy bolt the last lock shut by the light from a naked bulb that hung from a wire in the middle of the ceiling.

"Original Cindy's not into the backwoods liquor boo," Cindy answered switching on a long beer light bolted over the false wall in order to give them more light. "Place use to be a Speak East durin' Prohibition."

The room was the size of a butcher's meat locker lit only by the two lights and the dimness cast long shadows into the corners where 15-year-old wooden barrels of Scotch sat covered in a thick layer of dust. A puddle of the bootlegged liquor had long ago leaked out of a poorly corked knothole in one of the barrels creating a sticky residue that stuck to Cindy's shoe as she walked over it.

"Sorry," Cindy apologized. "Since this dealio wasn't planned I didn't have anytime to straighten up." She pulled open a removable piece of metal that covered a spy hole in one wall. "This thing covers the bar," she informed.

Zack peaked out through the two carved eyeholes. He could see Lydecker by the stage saying something to his men but the distance muted the words so that he couldn't make any of it out.

"Now I hate to be a party crasher after I just gave you all access to my discrete crib," Cindy began, addressing everyone in the room. "But would someone _please_ explain what the hell is goin' on?"


	9. Chapter 9

**= = =CHAPTER 9= = =**

SEATTLE - METRO MEDICAL

MAY 5, 2020

12:25 AM

Max was still out when Ariel was making her last check of the patients on her floor before she went off duty. She checked Max's EKG readout, blood pressure and temperature, satisfied that everything was steadily improving after her surgery.

"You're on your way back," Ariel informed to Max with a smile she had long ago reserved for her patients. Max still hadn't regained consciousness and although this worried her Ariel sensed that the woman was a fighter and wasn't about to let a drunken joy rider take her out.

"Ariel-" A nurse with shoulder length curly blonde hair and dressed in pink scrubs poked her head through the door. "There's a call for you. Some guy who claims to know your patient."

Ariel replaced Max's chart back at the head of the bed and exited the room through the door the other nurse held open for her. "If this guy knows her well enough to care if she's been in an accident why doesn't he get his ass down here and see her?"

"Beats me," the blonde nurse responded walking with Ariel to the circular nurses station desk positioned in the middle of the tiled floor. A black old cord style phone was off its hook on the desk.

"He sounds hot," the blonde announced to Ariel after Ariel picked up the receiver. "If he's not with her in a married way I might take a run at him."

"Don't you get enough action after work?" Ariel asked answering the call. "This is Nurse Ariel Randolph. Can I help you with something?"

"_You have a patient there, a Max Guevara-"_

"Yes Sir that's correct," Ariel agreed. "Can I ask what your relation to her is?"

"_She's my niece,"_ Lydecker lied from his cell phone while driving his SUV through the dark streets of Sector Nine filled will beggars and drunks.

Although he sounded sincere Ariel had a nagging feeling inside her – something just wasn't right about the call. "Mr. – I'm sorry I didn't catch your name."

"_Donald Lydecker, COLONEL Donald Lydecker,"_ Deck answered, emphasizing his military rank.

"_Colonel_ Lydecker," Ariel corrected. "Forgive my manners on that Sir. But more to the point; Ms. Guevara had no form of identification on her other than a Sector Pass and we had no record of her family contacts whatsoever. So how is it that _you_ were able to track her down here?"

The woman was clever; Deck had to give her that. _"Nurse – Randolph is it? My niece was just in an accident. I don't appreciate being placed under your microscope just because you have a problem with me."_

"I'm sorry Colonel, but I have an obligation to protect the safety of my patients."

"_Just what do you think I'm going to do?"_ Deck asked. _"Unless you've traded in your pink scrubs for a badge and a restraining order you haven't a shred of credibility to warrant your scrutiny."_

"I'm not a detective no Sir but-"

"_Then might I suggest that you stop with the piss poor attempt and understand that I was never ASKING your permission to see my own niece. Do we understand each other Ms. Randolph?"_

Ariel bit back as sight. "Yes Sir." She hung up the phone quite naturally despite the fact that she was extremely annoyed at being reprimanded by a complete stranger.

"He sounded like fun," the other nurse stated.

"Oh yeah," Ariel agreed sarcastically. "He rivals having sex with a porcupine. But then again he and porcupines have a lot in common – they're both pricks."

"So does this mean he's available?" the blonde asked hopefully.

"You really need to work on your timing," Ariel stated.

"Is that a yes?"

Ariel rolled her eyes. "I've got other patients to attend to. Let me know when you're done humping mental dick." She exited the nurses' station and disappeared down the eggshell colored washed hallway.

XXXXXX

After being hung up on by Ariel Lydecker dialed a privately secured line into Agent Sondaval's cell phone. A quick sputtering ring emitted over the line before Sondaval picked up.

"_Agent Sondaval here."_

"What is your location?" Deck ordered.

"_Still holding at the stairwell pe_r _your orders Sir,"_ Sondaval replied. "_Did you make any contact with the hospital staff concerning the girl?"_

"A shift nurse received my call but she wouldn't tell me much so I couldn't ascertain anything about X5-452 except that she had been admitted."

"_Sir if her injuries are more substantial then we're aware off she might not survive the trip back to Manticore."_

"My kids are tough," Lydecker corrected. "A car wreck is not going to stop them – I'm 15 minutes out alert all units to be ready for engagement."

"_Haven't you alerted Director Renfro on our progession status yet Colonel?"_

"Say that name to me again Agent Sondaval and you'll be entering Metro through the morgue," Deck threatened with quiet venom. "Understand?"

"_Colonel Lydecker I-"_

"I _said_ understand?"

Sondaval gave a paused sigh from his end and finally responded: _"Yes Sir."_

Deck disconnected the call and pushed the SUV's speed higher.

XXXXXXXX

SEATTLE – SECTOR NINE

Zack completely took his eyes off the road to reach into a forest green backpack and pulled out a cloudy silver semi-automatic handgun. "You strapped?"

"I'm about to attempt a rescue from a hospital that's about to be descended upon by a heavily armed military Attack Team Unit; what do you think?" Logan returned holding up his black handgun for Zack to see.

"That's not exactly hard firepower," Zack announced. He slid a loaded clip into his gun and cocked it

"The funny thing about guns is when they go off there tends to be people caught in the crossfire and I'm not about to let Max be one of those people." Logan snapped.

"Those soldiers are gonna be carrying a hell of a lot more sophisticated equipment then this and bringing two stick matches into a propane war can only end one way."

"It's so great to be in the presence of another Manticore cynic." Logan said tucking the gun into one of the interior pockets of his jacket.

"If Max were sitting here you wouldn't be saying that," Zack said matter-of-fact.

"But Max is out _there_ Zack remember?" Logan corrected in a growl. "And we have to get to her so I think that any remarks not geared towards that end should be stifled." He normally had more patience with people but with Zack he would make an exception.

Zack didn't buy into Logan's vision of a more goal-oriented driving environment coming out of not speaking his mind. "If Maxie didn't have such a fuckin' thing for you I'd a dealt with you a long time ago; but for her I've developed a tolerance for you existence – but even tolerance has its limits."

"I'll catalog that under the meaningless lessons I've learned from people over the years," Logan deadpanned. He didn't like Zack and Zack didn't like him, but they were stuck together for this. And so long as Max got out safe Logan could deal with the uncomfortable side affects that came from being in the company of Zack for so long.

The glow of Emergency lights around Metro Hospital finally peaked over the stretch of black road. Zack immediately went on the offensive as soon as he saw the hospital and cut off the headlights. Though it served a critical purpose to keep their approach a secret it now made the road pitch black.

Logan couldn't see anything in front of him except the tiny orange dots of Metro's emergency lights. But despite the almost zero visibility the Aztec remained on a straight path because of Zack's Manticore genetics that –like Max – allowed him to see in the dark.

"Company's ahead," Zack stated honing his vision to the side of Metro's outer walls. "Soldiers camped out on the fire escape."

"How many?" Logan asked.

"Six," Zack answered. "Standard size for a military Attack Team Unit."

"How about your old friend Lydecker?"

"He's not there," Zack replied giving Logan a sideways look. "Guess your hunch was actually right. The unit at the stairs is a decoy. Deck won't show his sorry ass until they've cause a sufficient diversion."

"You're a soldier too; what do you think that diversion will be?"

Zack snapped his attention fully on Logan. "Six Special Op soldiers armed with Class One high powered M-20's – they're sure as hell not gonna start mooning people."

"You're just full of useful information tonight aren't you?" Logan threw back.

"And you're just full of shit," Zack growled sticking his loaded gun into the pocket of his jacket. He glanced over at Logan with the look of a man who had gotten shortchanged on a war partner.

Finally the Aztec pulled up to the almost completely abandoned parking lot of Metro that was reserved for doctors. However before they could venture down a long line of Mercedes and Jaguar X-Types Zack cut around an empty parking space and headed in the opposite direction, towards a one-lane road that was used by the hospital maintenance crews to gain access to the transformers situated at the back end of the building.

"What are you doing?" Logan asked risking sounding stupid in front of the X5.

"Staying out of sight is a required procedure for a covert project," Zack responded. "Unless you really have a thing for broadcasting yourself in front of Lydecker's men."

The small road was straight but so dark that it made the road that they had just driven on look like a well-lit area. Zack held the Aztec down to a crawl as they pulled up to the rear side of Metro in case one of the Attack Team members was smart enough to position himself back there and could pick up on the engine's noise.

The motor cut off a minute later. "I'm about to take on Manticore's second finest soldiers with a single semi-automatic and a civilian cyber journalist," Zack proclaimed. "Let's make it hot." He exited the car and stepped out into the cool night air. The overcast from the rain that day had somewhat departed revealing a trail of tear like stars against the ebony sky.

Logan shut his door with barely a sound because blowing their cover over something as trivial as a car door slam was too stupid of an error to make. He felt the gun inside his jacket, reassured by the feel of its cool metal on his fingertips. But even his reassurance was tainted. There was no glory in taking human life. It was merely what had to be done sometimes in extreme circumstances. And he really didn't want tonight to be one of those circumstances.

XXXXXXXX

Renfro picked up her phone as soon as the first ring sounded. "Yes?"

"_He's approaching Metro now,"_ Agent Sondaval alerted her on Lydecker's location.

"Has he had any updates on the status of X5-452?"

"_None that he's alerted me on Ma'am. But from what I gather she's been banged around pretty good."_

"So long as her injuries can be rectified at Manticore I don't care how banged up she got," Renfro stated getting up from her chair and moved to stand in front of her art sculptured styled desk. "After you've extracted her I want her back here in a brig hospital room. Deck's kids are like lab rats. Once they discover they're in a caged environment they'll try to bolt at the first presented opportunity."

"_What should I tell the Colonel?"_ Sondaval asked_. "He specifically ordered to have 452 debriefed by him personally after her arrival at Manticore."_

"Am I to understand that you're _intimidated_ by Lydecker Agent Sondaval?"

"_No Ma'am,"_ Sondaval backpedaled pacing the small length of the iron stairwell landing. _"Lydecker just gave a direct order-"_

"I'm Lydecker's superior. I have the authority to override any orders he gives you, am I understood?"

"_Yes Ma'am."_

"Good. Contact me after you've returned with the girl," Renfro ordered.

XXXXXXX

Lydecker sat in the SUV having just listened to the last words of Sondaval's conversation with Renfro. He had bugged Sondaval's phone with a microtransmitter a month earlier after it became clear where the Agent's loyalties lie.

"_Yes Ma'am."_ Sondaval responded. The call disconnected.

Deck reached across the seat to retrieve his radio. "Private Collins this is Lydecker. I have an assignment for you."

"_Go ahead Colonel."_ Collins responded.

"Pull two of your men off the target area and have them reconvene at the south parking lot of the hospital to await further instructions."

"_Copy that,"_ Collin's affirmed ending the transmission.


	10. Chapter 10

**= = = = CHAPTER 10= = = =**

SEATTLE – CLUB CRASH

MAY 5, 1945

"Here," Logan took the silk handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against the bloodied split in Max's lip.

Max accepted the gesture, taking control of holding the cloth to her lip. "You still wanna hang with a piece of work like me?"

"I'm not about to abandon you now things are just getting interesting," Logan answered.

"Sexy _and_ honest. You'd better watch it with those kinda traits. We might be here long enough to start somethin'," Max stated with a smile that would melt glass.

"Excuse my interruption on your sex talk," Zack said walking in-between the two storage crates where Max and Logan were sitting at in order to get to the spy hole.

Max sighed at Zack spoiling the best mood she would have barricaded from the military in a secret back room. "Anyone movin'?" she asked. If she couldn't have her private erotic moment she was going to revert back to being a game player.

Zack watched the soldiers questioning people in the crowd while more paraded on the stage waving their guns around. "From the looks of things their about to do a show."

"Should we throw money?"

"It's not the kind of show you would _want_ to throw cheddar at Maxie," Zack replied, quickly closing the spy hole.

"So what the hell do we do now?" Original Cindy questioned holding up the hem of her dress so it wouldn't brush the filthy floor. "I've already played cops and robbers and bein' left out of the loop and I don't wanna play no more."

"It's complicated," Max told her honestly picking up on Cindy's unspoken question.

"No boo a transvestites complicated; this is a straight up bitch. Whatever Colonel Lydecker's dealio is with you know I got your back. But I can't do that if I don't know what I'm backin'"

Max bit back a sigh of longing about not being able to tell Original Cindy about her past. After she had ran from Lydecker' military men she had lived on the streets as a panhandler and pickpocket. One night when she was 15 she followed a man into Crash intending on scoring his wallet, but he stepped out with a five-dollar hooker so fast that she didn't get the chance. On her way out she ran into Original Cindy. Cindy took one look at Max's developing curves and smokey features and convinced the owner to hire her as an act. And it was through this that they became friends, sisters in reality.

Staring at Cindy now after all there years together Max knew she deserved the truth but it wasn't as easy as that. "I use to work at Ft. McClelland in Issaquah, just a secretary. Got hired by some guy who liked what I brought to his office so he looked past my age. Colonel Lydecker was the CO on base." She hated lying to her girl, but locked in a Speak Easy to hide out from Lydecker's men was not the time to unveil her whole life story. If someone found out Original Cindy knew about her past Cindy's life would become an expendable formality.

"So what happened?" Cindy gave into the lie; whether she truly believed it or not Max didn't know but Cindy never let on if she didn't.

"I walked in on him performing experiments on children."

"What kind of experiments?" Cindy asked.

_/FLASHBACK: "Please!" Max screamed at the camo dressed MP's holding her down to a steel exam table. "Please don't cut anymore!"_

_Above her stood Lydecker in green surgical scrubs working a bone saw through the ulna bone in her arm. A scalpel had already cut into her flesh to expose the bone and each movement of the saw caused a shockwave of pain to coarse up and down her body. _

_Lydecker ignored her cries and continued on while she screamed./_

"You don't wanna know," Max could still hear the cracking hiss of the saw teeth cutting though her. Her right arm – the one that Lydecker had broken – began to throb dully in phantom pain. She resisted the urge to rub it because it was an ache she couldn't just massage away. "The hospital on base was full of kids he had gotten off the street for a sick cover project of his. I walked after that but he knew I would go straight to the authorities so he tracked me down to shut me up. I managed to get away from him then but he's been after me ever since."

"Damn," Cindy cursed after hearing Max's well-concocted lie. "But I still don't get it. If this guy so down on silencing you why were you all huggy bugged on him at the bar?"

"It's part of my act," Max reminded. "Lydecker knew where to find me if he wanted me; he's known for a year. But he hasn't done anything cause he wanted to make me think I had a stable life before he grabbed me. But I'm onto his moves anyway. Donald Lydecker is a high ranking army Colonel. He could find me in a dark room without two arms and a flashlight so hidin' from him is pointless and a waste of energy. I just have to keep one step ahead of him."

"Boo ain't we hidin' from him right now?" Cindy didn't understand how Max's thinking would work in her favor.

"No Original Cindy this is tactical maneuvers," Zack corrected lighting up a quick cigarette, the last one inside a gold monogrammed case. He normally didn't smoke but he lifted them off Lydecker at the bar and he wasn't about to give them back – at least not unused. "Lydecker didn't expect Max to hide from him, this way she has the advantage because he can't anticipate her moves as well as he thought he could."

Original Cindy's eyes displayed confusion at Zack knowing her name. "Where'd you pick up my ID?"

"You're a headliner remember?" Zack told her pitching the fizzled out match onto the floor while taking a quick drag from the cigarette. "I just read the writing on the wall."

Despite the hide out situation they were currently in Original Cindy smiled appreciatively. "Original Cindy can appreciate the power of the well placed written word – but about the well placed _spoken_ words you just dropped – 'tactical maneuvers' – care to elaborate on that?"

"Just a procedural thing," Zack informed. "And when I find that bitch Colonel I have a few procedural things with my fist to work out with him."

"Despite your over zealous confidence Zack Lydecker's not just going to let you get close enough for hand-to-hand combat," Logan said realistically. "Not without heavy gunfire as a barrier."

Zack shot Logan a look that could only be accurately described as one he would give a dog that had just crapped all over his shoes. "Maybe you act as a shield for that gunfire barrier Mr-Big-Shot-Cale. Have it be your contribution as a civilian."

"Ladies if you're done bitching," Max snapped to the two men physically stepping in-between them – not because she wanted to keep them from coming to blows, but because she wanted to express some dominance of her own. "We need to establish a plan of action." Her lip had finally stopped bleeding and a trail of blood had dried like a scar on her chin under her lip. Most gang lords in Seattle never considered admitting a woman into their groups, but if they saw the way Max was standing there it would make them reconsider their prejudice.

"What plan of action Maxie?" Zack asked vehemently. "You think Lydecker's gonna just let you walk outta here?"

"I'm not going to just sit here and wait for him to die of old age before I make my move Zack," Max established.

"He'll be on you the second you step outta here and you know it," Zack retorted snubbing out his half finished cigarette. Max may not be his sister biologically but he didn't give a crap about their blood matching. She was his sister, plain and simple and as such it was his obligation to protect her. "This isn't a game Max!"

"Then stop treating me like a beginning player!" When Max was passionate about something she could outdo Zack in being pissed off. "In case you forgot there are more people held up in here then just me and I'm not gonna just leave them here for free for all assaults. I don't swing that way big brother."

"Then how about you just go out there and flounce around in front of Lydecker again. Since you don't mind risky escapes you might as well entertain the Colonel-" Zack was cut off by Max knocking him into the wall.

"Don't you _ever_ disrespect my body like that again understand?" Her question was rhetorical and she didn't give him the opportunity to respond before speaking again. "Now the way I see it is we're all screwed as long as we're in the same place as the cross hairs of guns. So how about we work on gettin' the hell outta here instead of just sitting around arguing like little girls until Lydecker finally finds this place?"

"Sugah I agree with you but that's impossible from where I'm sittin'" Original Cindy notified secretly proud at how Max handled herself with Zack. She was as tough as she was beautiful.

"Despite his prick balls your boy's right; they'd be all over you like masturbation on a lonely drunk before you ever get out the front door."

"I'm walkin' girl. Colonel Lydecker's just gonna hafta get over his problems," Max informed.

"Except _you're his_ problem Max," Logan reminded. "And Lydecker would just as rather get on top of you then get over you."

"Logan now's not the time for a horror story," Max snapped.

"How about a realist story then?" Logan returned. "Because that's what you're going to get if you step out of here and into a crowd of armed soldiers."

"I can handle myself."

"Oh really? I never knew a women who was so at ease with her own impending death."

"I never said I was plannin' on dying Mr. Cale. I'm reserving my croaking for a later date, which is where I'm also reserving space for this conversation. So that narrows your options down to two choices: help me or stay the hell outta my way."

Logan sighed an internal sigh that only he could hear. Even though he had just met Max that night he could tell that she wasn't someone who'd give up the fight for what she wanted.

Max pushed past Logan and stared to unbolt the steel door with quick precision.

"Girl what are you plannin' to do?" Cindy asked because she had heard no mention of a plan of action.

"I haven't a damn clue," Max answered honestly freeing the last metal latch from its fitted slot. I just make it up as I go along."

"Take this," Zack stepped forward and held out his gun.

"You know I don't handle weapons." Max protested.

"You just might have to piss of your irrational shyness of guns Maxie if you want to make it outta here without a military escort."

"And _you're_ just gonna have to piss of Zack 'cause I don't do guns okay?" She gave the door a solid push with her shoulder and the door opened silently to the dimly lit hallway that concealed the Speak Easy hideout.

Max stepped out slowly, cautiously checking out small sections of the hallway for any signs of people hiding in them. The only eyes that stared back at her were those of Miles Davis beaming at her from the black and white photo that hung just to the left of the hidden doorway.

"We're clear," Max announced in the hushed tones of a soldier relaying information to his unit in the foxhole.

Logan was the first one to walk stealthily onto the thin pine board that covered the hallway. "This place isn't going to be clear for much longer – it's only a matter of time before Lydecker finds us out."

"Why do you think I'm movin'?" Max asked in more of a statement then a question as Cindy stepped out in her sky high heals with Zack bringing up the rear with his cocked gun. "Bein' hauled out at gunpoint from a place no bigger then a shoebox is not gonna be the end my already crappy night."

Max started stepping quietly down the hallway looking ridiculously out of dress for such a military style undertaking. The walls were still quiet – too quiet. Crash was an all night orgy of hot jazz, booze and meaningless sex – silence was not something that existed within its walls.

"It's too quiet up in here," Original Cindy commented hitching up her skirt so she wouldn't trip on it. "This place is too full of drunks to be so silent-"

The sound of a cocking gun echoed in the hallway. One of Lydecker's men that had been hiding in the remains of a crawlspace in the wall revealed himself to them, his Beretta cocked. "My thoughts exactly." He was the Lance Corporal who had taken aim on Max before. He glowered at them in the sight of his gun. "Silence can be deafening and you might just miss out on something important if you can't hear."

"Looks like being hauled out of a place no bigger then a shoebox isn't gonna be the end to your shitty night after all," Zack proclaimed beside Max.


	11. Chapter 11

**= = = CHAPTER 11= = =**

SEATTLE – METRO MEDICAL

MAY 5, 2020

The maintenance entrance came out into a long white hallway that –after Logan and Zack followed it to the end – came out into Metro's reception area. A TV – blaring news about another food riot on Seattle's East Side – was turned on beside a pile of papers a young woman dressed in blue scrubs was leafing through.

Zack immediately descended on the reception desk and switched off the Television. The lack of noise made the woman look up from her papers. "Can I help you gentlemen?" Her voice was polite enough but she was still clearly on alert for any reason to call hospital security.

"A woman was brought here this morning," Logan was the first one to speak up. "It was an MVA."

"What's the name?" the receptionist asked.

Before Logan could answer the front doors of the hospital burst open under the force of two soldiers dressed in Kevlar body armor.

"This is a military raid!" one of the soldiers barked to the receptionists and nurses milling around. All of them stopped their work at the sight of the heavily armed men and a few of them even screamed. But the veteran workers just sat in stunned silence because this was not an uncommon sight to them.

"In accordance with the Seattle Martial Law Mandate of 2015 any employee of this hospital who doesn't comply with our orders will be shot on sight." The soldier ordered and trooped over to the desk where the receptionist was cowering in her chair. He grabbed a hold of the woman's blue uniform and yanked her up to him. "I want the record of every Hispanic woman who was admitted here in the last five hours."

"I don't have that kind of capability," the receptionist said in a quivering voice.

The soldier lost his patience with her and cocked his loaded rifle in her face. "This loaded M-20 says otherwise."

The receptionist's eyes bulged in terror and she turned her attention to her computer scanning the hospital records recorded into the mainframe. She struggled with manipulating the search engine to initiate a command it normally didn't do. But the soldiers glaring down at her from the barrel of his weapon made her recall her old skills of computer formatting she had learned from her tech head exboyfriend in college. The search finally brought up the names of 50 women admitted the ER and general admit. Seattle – for all the lies preached by Mayor Steklar that it was recovering from the shock of the Pulse – was still an extremely violent city. Mass amounts of its citizens came to the hospital on a daily basis.

"Maria Fuentes," the soldier read the name on the computer screen of a female patient that had been admitted after a domestic abuse attack. He pulled away from the desk and switched on his radio. "Fuentes is in Room #200 Sir. Second floor."

"Maria Fuentes was just abused by her husband soldier," the receptionist growled. "What the hell are you planning to do to her?"

"Her husband is a high ranking diplomat and he says that she purposely injures herself in order to claim he abused her to smear his name. We have enough evidence against Mrs. Fuentes to warrant her immediate execution."

The receptionist's eyes grew with fear at the word 'execution' but then they changed from fear to fiery rage. "You fucking bastards; she's in a coma! You think that just because you wear a uniform that what you do isn't murder?"

The soldier backhanded her across the face and pressed the maw of his gun into her chest while she recovered from the blow. "If you don't shut up woman what I'll do to you _will_ be murder." He turned back to his partner. "Take the stairs." He backed away from the desk and followed the other soldier out of the lobby and into the stairwell accessed behind a gray door.

As soon as he was out of sight the receptionist picked up the white phone on her desk and dialed a three number extension. "Some soldiers just came through here. They're wanting to execute a comatose patient in the second floor; be on ready." She hung up quickly having just called the hospital Anti-Military Resistance Movement that was made up of hospital employees that armed themselves against the corrupt enforcers of Martial Law.

XXXXXXXXXX

"I was wrong," Logan admitted to Zack in a voice just above a whisper. "Lydecker's not waiting for shift changes-"

"I figured that out a long time ago," Zack hissed from his vantage point in a darkly lit hallway. "They got sent in here as the decoy. Hospital security will be mounting a full weapons scale war on the wrong floor before they realize they were fucked. Max is in #312 I saw it on the screen before it faded out."

"All we need now is a plan to sneak past an Alpha Attack Team undetected."

"Get your head in the game Cale; I'm never without a plan." Zack said matter-of-factly.

"Fantastic G.I. Joe but shouldn't you start _executing_ this plan?" Logan insisted.

Zack glowered at him and flipped him off sideways, pointing to a silver elevator a foot in front of them. "Take that elevator."

Logan sighed trying to keep his anger under control so it wouldn't blow their cover, but he was never good at swallowing something so huge. "Ladies first."

Zack didn't respond but fixed Logan with a look that would have made Adolph Hitler wet his pants.

XXXXXXXX

The concrete stairwell echoed with the footsteps of the two soldiers as they ascended them.

"_Make your report Private," _Deck's voice ordered through Private Collin's radio unit strapped to his ear.

"Everything went according to plan Sir," Collins responded reaching the first landing of the stairs. "The idiots called out their resistance movement to chorale on the second floor. By the time they realize they've safeguarded the wrong patient on the wrong floor we'll have her moved down to our trucks."

"_I want visual conformation of X5-452 being loaded before returning back to base command."_

"Copy that Sir. Are you on your way in?"

"_Affirmative Private. But I want you and your SIC (Second In Command) to make the pick up and rendezvous with my by the rear ambulance bay."_

"What about Agent Sondaval? He has my unit ready for deployment into the lobby."

"_Alert your men to make a move for the third floor stairwell but Sondaval is to be kept out of the loop on this one understand?"_

"But Agent Sondaval's going to be incredibly pissed off."

"_I don't give a damn about what pisses off Agent Sondaval Private," _Deck spoke as slow as a drunk but also did so with a quiet authoritativeness that canceled out any beliefs that he was wasted. _"I'm still the CO of this operation."_

"I know that Sir; but then how do you want me to deal with Sondaval?"

"_You're training taught you how to fire a weapon correct?"_

"Yes Sir."

"_If Sondaval doesn't agree with the new coarse of the mission you deal with him the way you were taught to do."_

The Private went quiet for a brief five seconds before responding in quick military precision. "Yes Sir."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Hey!" Sondaval shouted to the soldiers that were moving from their location on the stairwell. "What the hell are you men doing? There was no order given to deploy."

"Yes Sir there was," a soldier clarified to Sondaval who was watching him from the landing of the first fire escape stairwell. "The order was given by Colonel Lydecker."

Sondaval stared at him with a 'what-the-hell?' look plastered on his face. "When did Lydecker initiate this command?"

"I'm not obligated to answer to you Sir. It was a direct order given by the Commanding Officer of Manticore; I will follow it," the soldier responded in quiet anger waving the members of his unit up the flight of stairs.

Agent Sondaval couldn't take on four heavily armed soldiers by himself to make them stop their actions. They were a group that was fiercely loyal to Lydecker because of his military status. Sondaval, even with his higher rank at Manticore knew that all of the soldiers – despite their training to follow any commands given to them – were much more loyal to the former Delta class Army Ranger then a hired Manticore suit. So he could do nothing but watch with heated hostility as the men deliberately disobeyed his authority.

_Son-of-a-bitch._ Sondaval reached into his trench coat pocket and pulled out his secure cell dialing a single dumber on the auto dialer. The rapid succession of numbers was heard punching out over the receiver before the call connected to its destination.

"_Yes?"_ came Renfro's voice.

"We have a situation. Lydecker's diverted the Alpha Unit to a per his orders situation."

"_He WHAT?"_ Renfro stood up from her cushy chair _"How the hell could he disobey a direct order? He's supposed to be one to respect the chain-of-command at Manticore because if it wasn't for us he'd still be getting wasted at the VA bar."_

"Director Renfro the situation can be rectified-"

"_You're damn right it can be rectified otherwise you're going to have a very pissed off Director to deal with. And when I'm pissed off Agent Sondaval I tend to deal harshly with useless expendabilities like you and Colonel Lydecker." _Renfro now paced around her minimally decorated gray toned office. _"I want X5-452 brought back to Manticore without any more situations; is that understood?"_

Sondaval could hear the blood lust in her voice. "Yes Ma'am."

"_Contact me again only after you've done so," _Renfro slammed the phone down in the cradle sighing at the idiocy she had been forced to hire.

XXXXXXXXX

METRO MEDICAL – THIRD FLOOR

1: 05 AM

The two soldiers finally made it through the doorway that led into Metro's third floor. Private Collins signaled his partner to advance down the quiet white corridor and check the cross section where it connected with the open area where the nurses' station was erected. Neither one of them considered unarmed civilians nurses a dangerous threat – they just didn't want to run into someone that would scream like hell at the sight of their weapons and body armor.

The stark white halls were almost completely quiet except for the low hum of a television reporter prattling in a monotone voice on the late night news. All the late shift nurses had a tendency to leave the TV on to keep them company during their long hours.

Collins gave the all clear to his SIC and both men advanced slowly forward stopping at brief intervals to access their location. The SIC was crouched behind a plastic laundry bin used for discarding soiled sheets and gowns. Directly above his head a large square air vent panel choked out puffs off cooled air through its filthy system of aluminum ducts. The maintenance crews had gone on strike five times in the past year so may of Metro's utilities had suffered from the lack of repair. It was because of this fact that the SIC didn't think much about the creaking above his head become more pronounced. So he never noticed the vent pushing away from the hole it was recessed into until it had been completely removed.

"What the-?" the SIC stared up into the square hole. "This is Rollins," he spoke into his radio unit and aimed his M-20 in the blackness. "We've got a situation."

"_What kind of situation?" _Lydecker's voice came over the radio receiver. He sat inside his SUV that was parked behind an empty ambulance. The Paramedics assigned to the rig were busy inside with their transport so no one noticed the black Class Two armored SUV sitting in the ambulance bay.

"An air vent shook loose on the third floor ceiling," Rollins went on craning his neck to the side in order to get a better look inside the hole.

"_Air vents don't just shake loose on their own Private,"_ Deck corrected. _"Someone had to have tampered with it."_

Lydecker's words hit the SIC like a bucket of cold water. He tapped the inside of the hole with the muzzle of his rifle in a poised stance to squeeze it off.

A heavy object dropped down at rapid speed from the black hole By the time the SIC realized that it was a man he was thrown against the wall causing him to loose his grip on his weapon. He reached for it but a size ten black boot stomped on his hand crunching the bones under its traction bumps.

"Agghh!" the soldier reeled back in agony at the pain of his shattered hand. Above the visor end of his helmet he looked right up into the face of Zack.

"You might want to get that looked at while you're here." Before the SIC could retaliate Zack reached around the side of his head and lethality snapped his neck.

Collins saw the entire attack and revealed himself with his gun cocked at Zack.

Zack shot him with three rounds in his neck chest and head. The soldier coughed a spray of blood, his body remaining upright by an unknown force for five more second before he collapsed on his back.

"_What the hell just happened Private?"_ Lydecker's voice boomed over the dead man's radio unit.

"You didn't have to kill them," Logan insisted stepping out from behind the Plexiglas wall of the nurses' station that he had ducked behind. Zack had climbed up the vent as soon as he heard the soldiers approaching. But the vent was a closed off section blocked by a Heppa filter –not large enough for two people. And Logan didn't _want _Zack to find a way to make it capacitate them both.

"Don't be so concerned," Zack insisted kneeling down to swipe the M-20 from the Alpha Leader's hand. "Lydecker's got a dozen more to replace them."

"They're just kids," Logan said. Both of the soldiers looked to be around Max's age. They should be going to college parties not be members of a military death squad.

"Would your rather I read them a damn bedtime story Cale? They're a Manticore Tactics Recon Unit and they're gonna be more just like them descending on this place once they figure out what happened to these two-"

"_Is anyone around dammit?"_ Lydecker's voice still came over the radio frequency.

Zack snatched the radio up off the floor. "Welcome to 'All X5 Radio'"

"_Who is this?" _Deck's face screwed up in confusion because it wasn't the voice of either of his soldiers.

"I'm the fuckin' Tooth Fairy waiting to extract my payment."

"_Zack-"_ Deck finally recognized the hostile voice.

Zack didn't respond to his name letting static play over the frequency.

"_Zack your plan will never work." _Deck informed ignoring the silence and kept talking. _"Max is badly injured. You'll never get her out of there undetected. I can send in a unit to get her down."_

"Yeah well if the rest of your unit is a shitty as the two I just disposed of then you've got one hell of a problem."

"_I can help you Zack-"_

"Like you helped Brin you walking dick job? I'm not going to let what happened to her happen to Max." Zack hissed. He had never forgiven himself for letting Brin go back to Mantciore. "If I find out where your transmitting this from I'll kill you."

The sound of a door opening down the hall made Zack and Logan turn their heads in quiet alarm.

XXXXXXXX

Ginny, the nurse who had the next shift with Ariel's patients, closed the door to the office supply closet after picking up a new box of ballpoint pens. A noise – a quiet but very distinct shuffle – reached hr ears. She looked up from the box and stared into the hallway lit only by floodlights welded into the very top seams of the wall. In order to conserve electricity Metro had taken to shutting down all of its transformers except those that supplied power to hospital equipment and floodlights so the patients and staff could maintain a level of visibility. But it was a very minimal level of visibility. After all the main lights were shut down for the night the long hallways were cast in eerie shadows that made them resemble the back alleys behind the crumbling businesses of Seattle. It was for this reason that Ginny hated working at this hour and tonight was no exception.

The members of the hospital resistance movement breaking out their stockade of small arms had already made her incredibly nervous and she _really _did _not_ want to find out exactly what was making that noise. But there were critical patients on her floor and they could be hurt if there was someone down at the end of the hall. So she swallowed her fear and crept slowly down the tiled floor peaking into every crevice for signs of people. She passed no one and heard no more of the shuffling noise and for one brief moment she started to believe that it was her own overactive imagination. But then her sneakers squished in something wet puddled on the tile. She looked down and saw a brought trail of blood. Alarm took over her features as she realized that the trail continued to the closed door of a bathroom.

Ginny stepped around the bloodstain and cautiously walked towards the door. A 'whooshing' sound behind her made her turn – right into the face of a man dressed in Kevlar body armor and toting a loaded M-20 automatic rifle. She screamed at the sight of the gun but the man yanked her back to him and clamped his hand over her mouth effectively shutting her up.

"I will shoot you if you scream again understand?" Zack glared at the young woman with fierce insistence taking slanted aim at her with the rifle he'd lifted of the SIC. He was wearing the SIC armor in case he ran into any fire power and also as a way to get out of the hospital undectected.

Ginny nodded whimpering under Zack's hand.

Zack released her after a moment. Though 'released' did not accurately describe it. As soon as Ginny felt Zack's lessening grip she hurled away from him. "You fucking anarchist soldiers!"

"Fuck me on your own time lady," Zack deadpanned. "Right now you're going to tell me the location of Room #312."

"I'm not telling you anything you son-of-a-bitch!" Ginny spat "I don't know what you're after but I'm not going to let a bastard like you kill one of my patients!"

"We're not one of them," Logan interjected. He hadn't dressed out in the remaining soldier's uniform because the whole idea of wearing a dead man's clothing was both desecrating and disgusting to him.

"Oh then you two are just Trick Or Treating early this year?" Ginny hissed.

"A friend of mine is on this floor," Logan told her the truth. "Those men out there – they want to drag her away like a hunted animal. Now it may seem like a load of crap to you but we're not leaving until you tell us where the hell Room 312 is."

The facts of Logan's story sounded half-cocked to Ginny but she still believed him because there was a quiet pleading insistence in his voice. "It's down the hall; very last door on the right."

Logan didn't even bother to thank her because now was not the time to remember to be a gentleman.

Zack stared Ginny down in warning aiming the M-20 at her. "Don't even_ think _about following."

Logan reached the end of the hallway first because Zack was still going commando on the young nurse. _Nice to know his cocky attitude is still there in all situations._ Room 312 stared at him from partially closed doorway. All the rooms were kept open this way as a precautionary measure because the old monitor alarms were often too quiet to hear. Logan pushed open the door preparing his mind for the sight he was about to see – but when he finally stepped inside and gazed at the woman on the bed none of his prepping did any good.

"Max-"


	12. Chapter 12

**= = = CHAPTER 12= = = **

SEATTLE – CLUB CRASH

MAY 5, 1944

"These bonds are kinda tight," Max said doefully, lips pulled in a full pout. She had been tied by the wrists to one of Crash's wooden chairs in the ladies room of the club. A plush velvet settee sat next to a gold leafed vanity. Women's coats and purses littered the marbled tile floor because the soldiers that had found Max ordered all of them out at gunpoint.

Max sighed in a cat's whimper at the LC who was staring her down from the barrel of his gun. "Think you could loosen these ropes for me?"

The LC fell under the spell of her sultry look and large brown eyes and almost went to fulfill her request but Colonel Lydecker's growling voice barked out: "If you lay one hand on her bonds Lance Corporal you'll be picking that hand up off the floor."

The LC went back into his original stance. He obeyed Lydecker's orders because of the chain-of-command not because he understood _why_ Lydecker considered this nymphet of a woman any kind of threat.

"Too bad," Max remarked, her pout still in place. "Would've been fun."

Lydecker laughed dryly. "You haven't changed at all Max." He stepped towards her as he spoke. "The package may be more dressed up and better looking but you're still that foul mouthed girl I picked up eleven-years-ago."

"We'll play 'do you remember' later Lydecker," Zack spat beside Max; tied up in the same fashion as his sister. "You have more urgent matters concerning keeping us here in these pathetic bonds."

"I'm never without a plan Zack-" Lydecker insisted. "Your civilian friends' lives are dependant on you staying _exactly_ where you are."

In the corner of the restroom –against a full-length mirror – four soldiers had their weapons trained on Logan and Cindy.

"They're not my friends," Zack returned.

"Then all you have to do is convince your sister of your non-caring attitude so I can go ahead and turn their bodies into target markers." Lydecker knew right where to touch people.

"Speaking of targets Donald," Max deadpanned looking in his eyes in order to take his eyes off her breasts. Only Donald Lydecker would mentally seduce a woman he was holding under military capture. "Care to explain your desire to hold this little interrogation of yours in the ladies room? I mean if you had to piss you shoulda just said somethin'"

"No big strategy; there was just no other space available." Lydecker responded honestly. "Even military officials can play it by ear every once in a while."

"Oh you play too?" Max stated. "And here I didn't buy a concert ticket."

"Let's stop playing this bullshit game Max," Lydecker ordered now inches away from her body. He narrowed his eyes at her. "We both know what I came here for so there's no point in pretending that this is a social call."

"You're the one with the hired Army goons – make the first move."

Lydecker didn't say anything and traced the coagulated blood trail that clung to Max's chin.

"What's a matter Colonel?" Max taunted. "Upset that you did a bad job?"

The LC stepped forward and cocked his gun at Max.

"Go through with it soldier and I'll kick your ass before the Colonel here does," Max's voice was low and threatening – the LC had a fully loaded weapon aimed at her chest but she was more intimidating then him.

For the third time that night the LC backed off of Max lowering his weapon down towards the ground.

Lydecker glowered at him. "Give me your gun Corporal."

The LC handed his gun off–butt first – to Lydecker.

Lydecker cocked the gun and fired a single round at the tile only centimeters from the soldier's feet. Despite his Army training the LC jumped slightly at the sound of the discharge. "The next time you do something as stupid as that I won't miss." Lydecker handed him back his gun.

"So this is your big tactical plan?" Zack cut in. "Tie us up in here and then bore us to death?"

Lydecker stared at Zack for several long seconds and then gave a snap with his fingers. Every soldier in the room turned their guns on Max and Zack. "If you wanted something interesting all you had to do was ask."

"You goons better not _touch_ my girl!" Cindy shouted ending her silence. She tried to break away from the soldiers around her but they grabbed her by the arms.

"Shut her up," Lydecker ordered.

Two of the soldiers aimed their guns at Cindy.

"Come any closer to Original Cindy and you're gonna need those guns," Cindy threatened. She didn't care whose government gave these men authority over her, she wasn't about to be bullet riddled by a duo of seven foot jack asses.

"Then why don't you shut your trap so we won't have to use them?" the soldier closet to Cindy ordered.

"I'm glad to know that despite all the vicious shortcomings you soldiers still find the time to treat the ladies right," Logan retorted beside Cindy.

"Mister there ain't no ladies here," the soldier cut in getting so close to Logan's face that if took one step closer they would be kissing.

"You're right about that," Logan agreed.

Lydecker laughed again – a dry crackling release of air from his mouth but lacking any real humor. "What's your interest with these two anyway?" he asked Logan. "I can understand Original Cindy's concern about the prospects of her being denied her next date but you're a cub reporter –you've got nothing at stake here-" Lydecker broke away to examine Max's reaction to his words and Logan Cale's returning gaze on her brown eyes. "I know that her package is worth dying for son but what's underneath that pretty wrapper is something you don't want to get involved in."

"You seem to think I'm involved with her enough to warrant shoving guns in my face and keeping us here like we're not worth something unless we're together." Logan replied in quiet anger.

"And you're under the impression that your opinion is of any merit to me," Lydecker snapped back. "No matter; it's not like I'll be around you long enough to become frustrated by it."

"What are you gonna do?" Cindy interrupted, fear staring to show in her voice.

"Something I should've done a long time ago ma'am," Lydecker responded coldly.

"Drop the 'ma'am' crap Colonel Lydecker," Cindy growled. "Your moral dipstick two drops away from bein' bone dry so quit actin' like bein' gallant counts anymore when you're about to do my girl up wrong."

"Your girl is a genetic slut." Lydecker informed coldy. "I pumped her full of the highest quality cocktail enhancers which she turned out beautifully; but then she bolted before I got the chance to tinker and perfect her."

Now Cindy was completely confused. Lydecker just assumed that Max had told her about her past. But being the military trained observant man that he was he soon picked up on Cindy's lack of knowledge. "Judging by your blank stare Ms. Original I'm assuming that Max didn't divulge her secrets to you. I guess it doesn't matter that you have some knowledge of it now because it's not like you'll be able to tell anyone."

"This has nothing to do with her," Max demanded.

"I'm not just going to let her walk with her new found information waiting to boil over to the first scank she runs into." Lydecker replied.

"Let her go," Max ordered. "You have what you want and enough man power to make sure it stays that way."

"You must think I'm stupid Max. That I'll suddenly sympathize with your friends' pathetic civilian lives and set them free." Lydecker looked at Max like a disappointed teacher to the slip up of his prized pupil. "I thought I taught you better then that."

"You're more sadistic then I thought if you call what you did to us 'teaching'" Max's anger was livid, a tigress only held back from her attack by a thin binding of rope. "You spent your days torturing us!"

"I was preparing you for greater things," Lydecker insisted.

"I was nine-years-old you bastard and you tied me down and _sawed_ through my arms! Explain to me how you call that prepping for the greater things?"

"You're remembering it through a little girl's eyes," Lydecker's voice was almost soothing, almost.

"Believe me I don't want to."

"Why? Because it scared you? Disturbed you? You're an adult now Max; looking at it with mature eyes you can't say that it wasn't exhilarating to know that you could have been better then the street trash you were."

"That's probably the same reason your wife got pimped by you Don."

Lydecker's face switched from a quiet authority to a furious rage. He flipped his gun around and backhanded it across Max's face, much harder then before. So much harder that her neck bones popped and the cut on her lip reopened causing a spray of blood to spurt down her bottom lip.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Cindy screamed.

Lydecker ignored her completely and stared at Max who's long hair had gotten thrown into her facet because of his assault. "Do _not_ disrespect me like that again."

Max flipped her hair back in a quick snapping motion. The blood from her cut now almost completely coated her bottom lip like a hideous shade of lipstick. "Who's disrespecting whom?" Her eyes were ablaze.

Lydecker removed a white cotton handkerchief from his uniform and leaned in close to Max to wipe the blood off her bottom lip, stroking like she was his lover. Zack visibly yanked at his bonds at that instant because he did _not_ want Lydecker anywhere near Max's mouth.

"If you weren't such a valuable asset I would have killed you a long time ago," Lydecker said quietly pulling back from her, not touching her further.

"I'm sure she's appreciating that right now," Logan commented with obvious sarcasm. "I mean you can't put a price on chivalry; at least not with money."

"I'm afraid this party is over son," Lydecker growled at him. He turned towards the LC. "I want the two prisoners moved out to our vehicles after which I want the two non-essential captives disposed off."

"Yes Sir," the LC returned glancing back to see Cindy's fearful gaze coming back.

"Report to me when you've completed the objective," Lydecker ordered, slowly starting to make his way to the door like a lumbering Sherman Tank; but he soon halted in his stride and looked back to his men. "Under _no_ circumstances are you to leave the prisoners unbound. Hand them off from these chairs only _after_ they've been cuffed understand?"

"Yes Sir," The LC responded.

Lydecker finally made it to the door but turned back one last time. "Corporal."

"Sir?" the LC answered.

Lydecker pointed to Max and Zack like he would a pack of wolves he was about to release. "Don't underestimate them." The door closed behind him with a soft 'swish'

The LC watched Lydecker leave before focusing his attention on Max. His gaze was leering, roaming all over her body without any concern for her dignity. "The Colonel's got it all wrong doll face." He leaned in close to her. "I didn't underestimate your abilities for a second." He smiled like a masturbator who had reached his self-fulfilling climax. He walked around to the back of the chair and began unknotting the industrial strength rope around her arms.

"Shouldn't you handcuff her first?" A soldier guarding Logan and Original Cindy asked.

"I'll do it in a second," The LC returned succeeding in removing one of the bounding loops wrapped around Max's wrist.

"Colonel Lydecker gave an explicit order-"

"The Colonel can shove his goddamn explicit orders alright?" the LC shouted back pulling the last knot free and effectively releasing Max from her ropes. He walked back around to Max's front side offering her a hand up from her chair like he was a gentlemen and she was his dance partner. "She's a pussy cat; she ain't gonna hurt anyone."

Max allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. "Now I wouldn't go that far," she grabbed the LC's hand and threw him to the floor. The soldier had a shocked look on his face when he slammed – head first – into the marble tile.

The remaining soldiers had the same expressions as the LC but nonetheless they still reacted on their military instinct and aimed their weapons at Max.

"C'mon fellas," Max complained. "Bloodstains are gonna ruin this dress." She flipped in a martial arts move in the air and took out both men with two swift hard-hitting kicks from her sharp-heeled shoes. Both soldiers fell to the ground and Max snatched one of their guns and aimed it at them. "I'm not a girl who really uses guns but I'm gonna make an exception this time around." She turned over to Cindy who was no longer guarded. "Untie my boy and give him the spare piece." She turned back to the LC with a glower on her face. "Strip off your clothes."

The LC looked up at her in confusion. "What?"

"You heard me soldier boy;" Max reiterated. "Make it snappy."

The soldier's disgusted smile was ten miles long and she started unbuttoning his coat. "I always knew you were a pussy juice pumping scank."

"What the hell are you doing?" Logan asked, confused by the scenario and personally not _wanting_ to know why Max wanted the man naked.

"High end fashion dealers are only into making a dress that's tight and slinky, not exactly skulking material. And I'm sure the Lance Corporal won't mind sharing his ensemble considering he doesn't have a choice."

The LC glared at her but a second later his leer was back when he handed her his pants and uniform jacket. He was now down to a white singlet and black cotton boxer shorts. "I came a little for you baby."

Max shot him a pissed off look but before she could rip his dick off bare handed Zack stepped in between her and the LC.

"It's my turn baby sister." He punched the soldier in the jaw watching with quiet pleasure as he landed flat on his boxer shorts clad ass.

"See that's why you don't go shooting your mouth off," Max said looking down at the solider. She passed Zack the gun. "I'm gonna shed my second skin for Army green. Find somewhere to stash them and above all make sure they don't peep on me." She walked into one of the velvet-covered stalls.

"Original Cindy's all over that," Cindy said getting her back. She reached out and took the LC's handcuffs Max held in front of her face, swiped from the Corporal's uniform jacket pocket.

"You wanna start something baby momma?" the LC leered licking the air like it was Cindy's nude body.

Cindy backhanded him. "You better shut your playa mouth fool cause Original Cindy's all about the smack downs."

The soldier snorted at her and his arm started to rise like he _did_ indeed want to start something.

"Wanna keep that hand?" Zack asked making a big show of placing his finger on the trigger of the rifle.

With Zack aiming at his testicals the LC had no choice but to let Cindy handcuff his hands in the front of his chest.

"Any of you other girls wanna try somethin'?" Cindy asked in a threat.

XXXXXXXXXX

Lydecker stood in the hatcheck area of Crash drinking from a flask of whiskey. He was completely calm and mild-mannered like he didn't just order the transport of two captives he had taken at military gunpoint. All of Crashes' occupants had left an hour before due to Lydecker threatening them with immediate death if they didn't leave. For all of their gun toting abilities most of them turned out to be cowards whose interests only revolved around themselves.

The only person that remained was the young blonde cigarette girl that was attracted to Lydecker's authoritarian side. She was old enough to have filed out lusciously in all the areas that Colonel Lydecker found attractive, but she was still young enough to be naieve and not question his motives. And he really only kept her around because he needed his nicotine fix.

"Hit me up with another pack," Lydecker called out to her and she responded by sauntering slowly over to him with slow sashaying hips. Her deep red lips were pressed in an alluring smile. She seemed not to care that she was the only remaining occupant of a normally rowdy and hopping jazz club.

"You're talking about the smokes right?" the girl asked, disappointment in her voice because she wanted to hit him up with something else – her.

"Look doll face I don't have time to watch you initiate poor quality seduction. So how about you just hand me a fresh pack and shut your mouth?"

The woman scowled at his mistreatment and complete immunity to her sexual mystique. She slammed a pack of Laramie Slims against his chest. "Shove those up your mouth baby. I ain't into that kind of mistreatment."

Lydecker snatched her arm before she could pull away. "I only tell the truth. Now if you can't handle that little girl you better run straight back home to your mother."

The woman's eyes were on fire and her free hand pulled back to slap his face but Lydecker stopped it and secured a strong grip to both of her wrists. "I've killed people for less then that."

The girl yanked free from his arms and turned sharply on her black heel and stomped away from him.

Lydecker watched her the entire time, eyes roaming all over her legs. He pulled one cigarette out of the pack with his lips and was about to strike a match to light it but a spark from butane lighter sounded off by his ear.

"Is this what you need?" The owner of the lighter was a woman wrapped up in a black trench coat with flapper cropped blonde hair and brown eyes that were more dangerous then they were alluring.

Lydecker accepted the light but he wasn't exactly happy to see the woman. "What the hell are you doing here Anna?"

The woman –Anna Renfro – replaced her lighter in the side pocket of her trench coat. "Now how can you talk to me like that after I just lit your fire?" Her words lacked any form of a come-on. She was not interested in anything involving getting Lydecker naked; it was rather meant as a sarcastic remark.

"Spare me the mediocre attempts at seduction Anna. You are only good for directing scourges. You should leave the cock sucking to the professionals." Lydecker blew out a cloud of blue-gray smoke.

Anna Renfro took the blow without comment. She wasn't a woman that wept at every smear against her character. "My men have been telling me things Deck," 'Deck' was a nickname Lydecker acquired through his years in the service.

"We both have the same men Ms. Renfro so why don't you just cut through all the bull?"

Renfro smiled, one that was poorly executed because she didn't smile often. "Very well. I've gotten word that you're finally bringing in one of the escapees that got away from your ward 11-years ago. Now that sounds like marvelous work Deck-" the smile vanished from her face. "But from what I've heard you're more interested in your kid's breast size then getting her back to the project."

"She is my creation after all." Deck reminded. "I filled her with enough hormones to make her that voluptuous. It keeps the men distracted before the full assault."

"Well she's certainly kept you distracted. You've accomplished levels of genetic research that the Nazi's don't even have their hands on and yet you're treating this girl like your own personal sex kitten. What about the other one, the male? Do you plan on seducing him too?"

"I suggest you cross back over that line Anna," Lydecker growled. "Because I'm giving the project back its Alpha products."

"You wouldn't have to give them back if you didn't let them escape in the first place." Renfro's voice rose to a level of disbelief. "I mean, I don't understand. How hard is it to keep children in check?"

"Why don't you ask them?" Max's voice growled out. She was dressed like a much sexier version of the LC minus the shirt. The suit jacket was buttoned up only high enough to keep her cleavage hidden underneath the wool. Beside her Zack stood aiming the M-2 at Lydecker and Renfro. "You really should make sure your soldiers know how to follow a direct order before you leave them alone with someone like me."


	13. Chapter 13

**= = =CHAPTER 13= = = **

SEATTLE – METRO MEDICAL – ROOM #312

MAY 5, 2020

1:15 AM

"Max," Logan's voice barely came out. He took in the sight of the IV and the unit of AB blood hanging on the metal tree-like IV hangers around the bed.

Her eyes were closed and she looked deathly pale. The abrasions on her face stood out in stark comparison to her pasty skin. A blanket was pulled up to her bust line leaving Logan to guess how bad she was underneath it.

Zack cam through the door five seconds later. His expression was the same as Logan's when he saw Max's condition; but he masked it a second later. "Get that fuckin' IV cath out of her arm!" His voice was urgent, the order of a commander. "We can only be transfused with X5 blood. These idiots are gonna kill her with that shit."

Logan wasn't moving fast enough so Zack took over and pulled out the catheter from Max's forearm. The feeling of the needing being removed caused Max to jerk in a semi-level of consciousness.

"It's okay baby," Logan reassured in a breathy whisper. "I'm going to get you out of here." He pulled the blanket of her legs and lifted her up in his arms careful not to jar the bandages and rods he discovered immobilizing one of her legs. Her weight of 105 pounds was so light to carry that it was difficult to imagine her being able to kick anyone's ass.

Zack took the lead out of the room pressing himself flat against the hallway, the M-20's mouth aimed in front of him.

The hallway was as silent as they were before and there was no sign of Ginny. She had taken off the second Zack had disappeared down the hallway.

"Now what?" Logan asked. He didn't want to admit to Zack that he had run out of ideas but Max's unconscious form against his body reminded him of the urgency of the situation. "There are soldiers all over the hospital."

"I don't give a fuck if it's World War III out there I'm not leavin her here," Zack hissed.

"This hospital was built after the Pulse when the government mandated secret exits at the back end of all medical facilities."

"Fantastic Cale but we're still up on the third goddamn floor!"

"The exits are all accessible on each floor by an elevator built to look like a biohazard waste dump shoot."

15 feet ahead of them sat something built into the wall that resembled a laundry shoot except for the yellow metal caution sign warning:

_Biohazard material emptied daily. No hospital linens permitted down shoot._

Logan searched on the white wall for the hidden call button he knew would have to be there. He found it a second later – a small circular disk painted the same color as the wall; only decipherable from its surroundings if someone looked incredibly close at it. He freed one hand from his hold on Max and pressed the switch. The biohazard chute opened up like the mouth of a hungry dinosaur revealing a walled metal lift interior of an elevator. The group quickly stepped inside the metal box.

"Who knew you were actually good for something?" Zack quipped.

"You don't have to thank me Zack," Logan reassured sarcastically watching the doors closed. "Your smart ass sarcasm is enough."

XXXXXXXXXXX

METRO MEDICAL – GROUND FLOOR

Lydecker burst through the automatic sliding entrance doors. But his arrival attracted little notice because the people that once filled the lobby were either staking out the hospital grounds with the resistance militia or had ducked down behind any kind of furniture that they could find, praying that they wouldn't be shot by a power crazy soldier.

To the casual observer the lobby would look completely deserted. But Lydecker wasn't a casual observer; he would notice if there was a new scuffmark on the hospital's already scuffed up floor.

The receptionist who had ducked down behind the circular desk wasn't aware of Lydecker's presence when she peaked her head up to check if it was safe. A gasp caught in her throat when she caught sight of Lydecker's stern brown eyes staring down at her.

"You," Lydecker called out.

The receptionist crawled out of the desk and started to run.

"Hey!" Deck pulled out his black Beretta and aimed it at her retreating back. "I have a loaded weapon pointed at your back Miss; if you don't stop right now you'll go from hospital employee to hospital patient."

The receptionist stopped in a dead halt at his words and she gave another gasp – audible this time – upon seeing the Beretta aimed at her. "Please," her voice was a desperate plea. "Don't shoot me."

"Relax ma'am; I don't have time to shoot a civilian," Lydecker stated factually but still didn't lower his weapon. "I need information from you. The sooner you give it to me the sooner this will all just be a vivid nightmare flashback."

The receptionist lost control of her emotions then and a small sob burst from her mouth.

Deck didn't care how upset she was he was _going_ to get what he wanted out of her. "Your Paramedics brought in an MVA about 5 hours ago; a women, Guevara. I want to know where she is."

"I don't memorize patient records," the woman insisted in more of a cry then an actual voice.

Deck became more upset and jammed his gun into her neck. "Do you think I'm stupid Miss? Nobody would memorize the damn records. But this is a woman that would leave a lasting impression the second she was carted through those doors. Every damn male employee in here could tell me what room she's in so why the hell can't you?" His speech was agonizingly slow and deliberate, making certain that she grasped the severity of every word.

The receptionist cried out again and bit down on her lip so hard that she split the first thin layer of skin.

"I'm only asking this again," Deck ordered shoving the maw of the gun right next to her bulging aortic vein. "What room is the patient in?"

"312, at the very end of the hall, right side," the receptionist finally answered in a feeble voice.

Deck shoved her back after hearing those words. She landed hard on her right side on the tile and scrambled back to the desk as soon as she got her bearings.

"Thanks," Deck's tone wasn't cold or even enraged; it was emotionless. He walked away from the reception area without another word, heading for the elevator.

XXXXXXX

THIRD FLOOR

The hallway was abandoned when Deck stepped out of the elevator, or so he thought.

"Sir," an Attack Team soldier's voice reached his ears. The Attack Team Unit that had been positioned on the stairwell was now crouched around something on the floor.

Lydecker approached them and cursed when he realized what they were looking at. The Alpha Team Leader and the SIC lay on their backs with blood oozing out from bullet holes that riddled their bodies. The SIC had also been stripped of all his gear and the white undershirt and gray boxers that he had been left with clung to him sticky with blood.

Deck glared at the first soldier he could find – a scared shaven head middle twenty something kid. "Do you have conformation on who did this?"

"Negative Sir," the solider squeaked out in a pathetic attempt at a man's voice. "Commander Collins and the SIC abandoned the perimeter and entered the hospital. The rest of us held to the location until Sondaval gave the go ahead to deploy."

"_Who_ is your Commanding Officer son?" Lydecker asked in a growl.

"You Sir," the soldier responded quickly.

"Then explain to me why the hell this _entire_ unit decided to obey an order not given by me?"

"Agent Sondaval was very insistent Sir. He said that the command came straight from Director Renfro."

"Director Renfro has nothing to do with this mission," Deck's words were extremely cold. "You are _only_ to obey orders that come from these lips-" he tapped his mouth quietly with one index finger. "Am I perfectly clear on that?"

"Crystal – Sir," the solider coughed out.

"Get these bodies out of here and establish a lock around this floor no one gets in or out without us knowing about it."

"Yes Sir," the solider replied, relieved to hear these orders because Lydecker's aggression was three seconds away from making him mess in his pants. The men dispersed in quick military order to surround the hospital floor.

Deck grasped at his weapon again and took hurried steps down the hall to Room #312. The door was wide open revealing to him a completely empty room. The hospital linens on the bed were mused up and a tube catheter leaked blood onto the sheets slowly wasting the supply it was tapped into. He lowered his weapon and stared into the empty room for a long second. Even though Max had managed to elude him yet again – this time while she was seriously injured – he wasn't surprised that it happened. He had actually expected it.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The elevator opened directly to the outside and the cool night air slapped Logan in the face although – as usual – Zack didn't seem phased by the temperature.

Zack screwed a silencer on his handgun and shot out the streetlights that illuminated the side parking lot. The pavement was now bathed in darkness that only bats and transgenic soldiers were capable of seeing in. But Logan didn't have time to complain before they reached his Aztec.

Zack still had Logan's car keeps and he wordlessly unlocked the door with the keyless remote.

There was an awkward moment for Logan while he tried to figure out the best way to lay Max in the back seat without hurting her but he finally got her in as comfortable as he could and climbed in beside her. He shed his black wool jacket and covered her to keep her warm because she was only wearing a flimsy hospital gown.

Zack jumped into the drivers seat and gunned the engine. "You better make sure she's still alive back there," he glared at Logan from the rear view mirror.

"I'll do better then that Zack," Logan insisted. He gently placed Max's head in his lap keeping one finger on her jugular vein to track her pulse. He cupped her forehead with his other hand to keep her from being slammed around from Zack's high speed driving but he also did it just to be able to touch her.

XXXXXXXX

A shrill ring from the phone made Anna Renfro stand up from her desk. She sauntered over to answer it like it was just a casual phone call from a friend. "What is it?"

"_It's Colonel Lydecker-"_ Sondaval's voice was slightly above his normal monotone. _"He had two Alpha soldiers breach the perimeter to personally hand him the girl."_

"He _what_?" Renfro was outraged.

"_The soldiers pulled out 15 minutes ago and haven't reported back."_

"Have you established contact with Lydecker?"

"_He turned his radio off."_

Renfro sighed heavily. "I suggest you rectify this problem immediately Agent Sondaval."

Sondaval heard the deafening slam of Renfro's phone in his hear before he disconnected the call from his cell phone in the hospital corridor of Metro's third floor. He hurried down to Room #312 and stepped inside the white walled room. He was completely startled to see Lydecker sitting on the empty hospital bed flipping through a _National Geographic_ magazine he had taken from the waiting room.

"You didn't surprise me at all Agent Sondaval," Lydecker informed not looking up from his leafing. "A cooperate bread 'yes man' was what you were hired for after all."

"Colonel Lydecker; Director Renfro ordered me to-"

"You don't have to explain anything," Deck cut in standing up and folding the magazine, laying it on the bed. He took slow steps towards Sondaval pulling out his Beretta – with a silencer screwed on it – and cocked it. "It's obvious to me what went wrong. You forgot who you work for." Deck shot of three rapid-fire rounds in Sondaval's chest. "But I didn't."

Sondaval gasped and choked on blood that was now clogging up his throat. He grabbed at the huge jagged hoes in his chest and fell on his knees on the linoleum floor.

"Don't bother coming into work tomorrow," Lydecker said dryly staring down Sondaval's writing form. "You're fired." He turned and walked out of the room as Sondaval dropped into a heap of his own blood and entrails on the floor.


	14. Chapter 14

**= = =CHAPTER 14 = = =**

SEATTLE – CLUB CRASH

MAY 5, 1944

"Sorry I can't stay Donald," Max tightened the ropes around Lydecker's wrists. She had secured him to the same type of chair he had tied her to. "But I thought you and your girlfriend would want to be alone."

Zack kept his gun aimed on Anna Renfro who was lashed to a chair beside Lydecker. "You can wile the time away by guessing the number of bullet hoes I'll shoot into your sorry asses."

"We both know that's bull flop Zack," Lydecker insisted reprimanding Zack like an angry father. "If either of you wanted to shoot me I would be in the back of a hearse by now."

"Try inside of a shoebox," Zack growled.

"I have to at least be impressed by the sarcasm you've managed to teach these kids Donald," Renfro said flatly. She remained perfectly still in her bonds as if the entire idea of being held captive was too lowbrow for her. "Too bad the committee will be less then thrilled that your creations have an acute problem with authority figures."

"It's most acute when I'm staring them from the barrel of a gun," Zack spat placing the gun right on the skin of Renfro's neck.

Renfro still did not appear fazed. With the kind of organization she headed gratuitous violence was commonplace. "If you planned to should me you would have done so already. So why don't you just spare me all the melodrama and do something more useful?"

"Shut up!" Logan called out from the stage. He stood next to Original Cindy who packed a pocket size pistol in her bra and was now keeping it aimed on Renfro. Cindy was scared as hell but it never registered on her face.

Renfro turned her attention over to Logan eyeing him like he was a little boy caught sneaking into the back of a burlesque house. "Just what _is_ your investment in this? You don't know these two. You may think you see a rare beauty in the woman but let me tell you something son; she's a tramp who was trained to kill. And all your lustful thinking about a long term relationship with her isn't going to change who she is."

"Who Max is something that can _only_ be left up to her," Logan insisted.

"_Max?"_ Renfro sounded amused. Back at the military base she hadn't taken the time to learn any of the experimental populations' names. They had all been assigned a 12-digit string of numbers and it was the only thing she knew them by. "I'm sorry but 12-digits is all I associate myself to knowing about them; it's really the only thing _worth_ knowing actually. I never really cared much about the pathetic lives they lead before they joined the Program."

"Keep talkin' and there'll be one less pathetic life to worry about," Max barked in a low voice. "And for the record I don't care if I made it into your 'don't whack' list."

"Noted," Renfro replied calmly. "But for the record _Max_ If it wasn't for the Project would you be a degenerative heap right now prostituting yourself for blood." She paused and stared at Max with knowing coldness in her eyes. "We made you what you are."

"As soon as I get outta here I'll make sure and send you a 'Thank You' note," Max hissed. She felt like she was back on the base. Renfro had never shown her face more then once a week to them but each time Max remembered her sterile brown eyes observing Lydecker perform experiments on them, actually sipping coffee while Max screamed as her bones were broken.

Renfro's eyes were just as sterile as they were then. "That's not necessary. Just seeing you is reward enough." Anna Renfro knew just what to say to smack Max in the face. She took part in her creation and knew her weaknesses the way a partner knew their lovers erogenous zones. "You are your own best strength Max – but you're also your own worse liability." She smiled, something tight lipped and very out of place for the intense situation. But Renfro dictated her own situations. "Even if you did run you exposed your face to me and I will remember it. But maybe by that time you would've retired from the role of seductive songstress and have a husband and there would be so much more to loose-"

"Shut up," Max ordered.

"-And I'd be forced to drag you off in front of your children – and this would all be because you let your guard down for that split second when you thought you had a handle on things."

"_Shut up!"_ Max backhanded Renfro across the face so hard that it drew blood.

Renfro came back after the assault and sucked on the blood that she could reach from the oozing trickle running down her chin.

"If you have anything else to add tell it to my backside 'cause I'm outta here." Max turned around so quickly that the resulting 'swoosh' of wind created by her movement displaced several old flyers that had fallen on the stage.

"Remember what I told you," Renfro said in a low direct order.

Max stopped her escape then and swept back around like a powerful heiress but with the eyes of a battle weary soldier. "Always." She walked away from Renfro knowing that what she said was true and there was nothing she could do about it.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The night air outside of Crash was cool – not the ice freezing cool of winter or a torrential downpour – but the kind of cool air that would make club goers become more awake on their drowsy shuffle to reality. Somewhere behind a fence a cock fighting guard dog barked and was unanswered by anything except the silence.

Original Cindy rubbed her arms with quick hands. She had left her coat in the dressing room at Crash, but going back to get it was the last thing on her mind. She continued to rub her arms and clunked in her sky high heals – that she now regretted she wore – taking her away from Crash and deeper into the part of the city that had a bedtime. Ahead of her – leaning against a black lamppost – was Max, staring up into the small peaking of stars that lit up a path of clear black sky.

It was past 2 a.m. but Cindy was use to the late night hours when no one sober was out on the street anymore. But everything about that night was _not _something that she was use too. Being held up by military gunpoint made her look at everything differently, especially Max. She was the same sexy woman that came into Crash all those years ago asking Original Cindy for a job but she wasn't the same person she knew.

Max's eyes traveled down from the sky and stared into Cindy's when she felt herself being stared at. Her eyes weren't even curious or wondering – they held an exhaustion that came not from physical strain but from dealing with heavy burdened emotions. She was completely raw, but Cindy knew she would never admit it because Max lived under the belief that in silence came strength.

Cindy had a million questions to ask her girl but she respected her need to not ask anything she wasn't ready to know to answer too. But she still wanted to talk to her, if anything to make sure she was okay. Cindy took a few cautious steps towards her boo watching her turn back up to the sky, looking for something only those that believed in its existence could find.

"Max," Cindy wanted to ask all the standard questions- 'Are you okay?' 'Will you be okay?' but the words stalled out when she saw how intently Max was trying to find what she was looking for, even if she doubted it was actually real. But Max looked anyway, because she wanted it to be real.


	15. Chapter 15

= **= = CHAPTER 15= = =**

SEATTLE – FOGLE TOWERS

MAY 5, 2020

6:15 AM

"What the hell is that?" a distinctively female voice sounded off a in a part of Max's brain that was slowly coming back into full consciousness.

"It's called a blood transfusion," another voice – this one male – responded back in deadpanned sarcasm.

"I can see that fool but why are you makin' it so personal? Can't you use the old IV method?"

"Last time I checked this place wasn't stocked on medical supplies," the male voice snapped.

At first Max thought it was Logan because his was the last voice she remembered hearing before she blacked out – the last real voice anyway. All the time she was drifting she heard other voices, people she knew dressed like gangsters and fully equipped to play the role. Her eyes finally opened and she was actually relieved to see Original Cindy – not in a white dress – but in a pair of gray track pants and matching jacket that she had obviously thrown on in a hurry because the drawstring on the pants weren't tied and the jacket was zipped up but a peaking of flesh revealed that she was naked except for a bra underneath it.

Max blinked once to clear away the gritty feeling that was blurring up her vision. Cindy was eyeing her the entire time – a look of concern setting up camp across her features.

"Hey," it was Max's voice – raspy from disuse – that said the first word.

It was a huge tension breaker for Cindy and a warming smile spread across her face. "You better not scare us like that again boo," Cindy's voice hovered between worry and relief.

Max smiled back in return, but the abrasions on her face made even this simple action painful and it ended up becoming more of a grimace. "Don't think I would want to if it hurts this bad." She took stock of her body that was lying in Logan's pillow topped mattress. A warm goose down comforter had been pulled up to her waist but her left leg was left out due to a lengthy tan bandage swathed around the bruised flesh and she also felt the tiny pricks from several metal bars bracing the injury. The whole thing was uncomfortable but only pulsated a dull ache that felt like a toothache was happening in her leg. Besides her obvious injury she found several coaster size bruised tender points on her abs and a five-count stitched laceration near her hairline. "Tell me I don't look as bad as I think I do," she demanded plucking at the thin hospital gown she was wearing that reeked of antiseptic and dried blood.

"We could. But it would be an out-and-out lie." The male voice – which Max finally realized belonged to Zack – teased her from beside the bed where a thin tubing connected their arms together and a steady flow of his blood was emptying into her veins.

"Is that a catheter in my arm Zack or are you just happy to see me?" It hurt to smile and to joke but Max was damned if she was going to let pain dictate what she did.

If Zack were any other man he might have blushed or laughed dryly in a form of quiet denial. But he was true to his X5 roots and offered her his wit. "You can always find your blood supply somewhere else little sister." He had been transfusing her for the last hour and the blood loss made him a little weak and drowsy but he would never admit nor give into it. He pulled the needle out of Max's arm a minute later after enough blood had been exchanged and chucked the dirty needle and tubing in Logan's open-ended laundry hamper that sat in a corner of the room.

"I'm sure Logan will appreciate my blood on his clothes," Max commented her voice becoming stronger as she talked more. The words were just said as a means of trying to break back into the world she hadn't been able to live consciously in all night.

No one had said anything about Logan and Max mentioning his name made her wonder just where the hell he was. It was his apartment after all and yet he was strangely absent from it. "Where's Logan?"

As if it was staged the quiet click of the front door being opened echoed in the hallway.

"He was a wreck beside your bedside sugah," Cindy informed. "So Original Cindy made him go out to the market for an orange 'cause it's the only thing I knew that would keep him huntin' long enough for him to pull himself back into a functional human being."

Logan's footsteps sounded off a few inches away from his bedroom door and soon he pushed the door open slowly like a child entering a room he shouldn't have. "Max." He only realized that she was awake after he was completely in the room and it shocked him so much that he almost dropped the single orange he was holding.

"You already know her name genius," Zack snapped.

Logan glared at him but said nothing; he had had enough of Zack's mouth for one night. "How are you feeling?" Logan directed this question at Max.

"At least I'm not dead," Max answered honestly.

No one had said anything out loud but Cindy and Zack's presence in the room was putting a tension between Max and Logan because they felt like they were constantly scrutinizing their moves.

"Damn," Max cursed at the bruises on her body that were now beginning to throb. "If you were sent out to buy morphine Logan I'll take my dose now."

Her statement surprised Logan because Max would never admit she was it pain unless it was bad. She had been through major surgery when he took her out of the hospital and he never even considered how much of a toll it would take on her already weakened body. And now she was asking him for painkillers – it was all enough to make him mentally kick himself for being so untuned to her needs.

"Don't beat yourself up about this," Max's voice brought him back to reality. "It's a waste of good Delta waves." She knew Logan too well and wasn't about to let him put himself through seven kinds of hell over something that wasn't his fault. She hissed under her breath. Not only were her bruises throbbing but the pain in her leg was becoming more acute. But she bit her tongue to keep from crying out about it. She wasn't about to admit that she felt worse because she had a strong soldier reputation to maintain.

"I won't waste my intellectualism worrying about my past wrongs if you let me give you something for the pain," Logan said in quiet concern.

"Sorry I'm not that kinda girl," Max joked. Even with all her injuries she still had her smart-ass wit.

"Max-" Logan's voice was a tired sigh. She was as stubborn as she was beautiful and he knew she would dance around his concern like it was nothing.

Original Cindy caught the exasperation in Logan's tone and knew that if was going to get anywhere with her girl she'd have to give them space. "Sam-" Cindy called over to Zack who was still standing beside the bed.

"Zack," Zack corrected quickly annoyed at Cindy's mistake even though she had only heard his real name spoken once.

"Whateva," Cindy snapped not caring for his attitude. "How 'bout we make ourselves disappear and reemerge where there's a pot of black coffee so we can pretend we're actually awake during vampire hours."

Zack was silent for a moment contemplating the idea but soon made up his mind "That pot has to be as full of coffee as a Sector Cop is with bull to get me to pretend that I have any level of alertness."

"Boy you can have it high enough to take a bath in it if you want just move so I can have some company out there besides myself." It was a direct order, not as harsh as Zack's commando voice could dictate but no less intimidating.

"You'd better watch yourself," Logan warned Zack. "She's no lightweight when it comes to ordering people around."

Cindy smiled but didn't add anything to that. Instead she walked over to Max and offered her a quiet kiss on the cheek. "You gonna be aiight for a while boo?"

"I'm always aiight," Max reassured. "I'm probably gonna fade out in a moment anyways so you should find somethin' else to amuse yourself with." Max shifted her attention over to Logan. "That goes for you too. I don't need a monitor to watch me while I lie on my ass."

"If it's alright with you I think I'll stay," Logan insisted. "After all it's my room"

"Logan Cale has to look out for his own best investment," Max returned, her voice getting stronger as she talked.

"You're right about that," Logan agreed. "But it isn't my furniture that needs looking after." He was being very sincere and hoped Max picked up on what he was trying to say. He knew she would be turned off he coddled her too much.

"Forget that coffee," Zack cut in with a displeased voice. He walked across the bedroom's hardwood floor but then stopped halfway from the bed and turned back around to face Logan. "You better have some hard liquor Cale because suddenly my sanity needs looking after."

Logan said nothing to that because he was working up the balls to say something else: "Thanks – for helping me out today."

Zack lowered his eyes to Max for a brief moment. "I didn't do it for you." He turned and walked out of the room the rest of the way with Cindy following him at a safe distance.

"He's an interesting guy," Logan stated after Zack had left.

"That's the understatement of the year," Max notified from the bed.

He turned towards her. "He's your brother Max. I don't think you would've liked what I really wanted to say."

"Zack has a lot of moods and mystery," Max explained. "You get use to it after a while."

"He obviously cares about you enough to let you in past all of that."

"He doesn't own the world on people caring about me," Max informed.

A long but comfortable silence settled over them and both bathed in it for a while before the words came that would bring them back to reality.

"Sorry I worried you," Max blurted out.

Logan sat down on the edge of his bed next to her. "You have nothing to be sorry for." A quiet insistence was tangled up in the words. "I'm just relieved you're okay. When Zack told me that the dime was dropped to Lydecker about where you were I knew I had to reach you before he did."

Max was slightly surprised at the news of Lydecker being after her in the hospital but not completely surprised. Her life was sadly like this, an endless loop of escape and evade. "I say you succeeded, unless Manticore barracks have gotten a high-end upgrade since my day."

Logan offered her a gentle smile, but it was overshadowed by his concern for her. She looked so worn out and small in his huge bed. "Do you remember anything?"

"It all happened so fast," Max admitted. "I barely got a look at the Hummer before I was knocked down after that I must've lost it 'cause waking up here is my first coherent memory."

"Don't worry about it," Logan reassured. "Memory loss is common with trauma. It will get better with time."

"Who are you tryin' to convince?" Max asked a loaded question. She tilted her head sideways, observing him from the new angle.

"Are you okay?" Logan questioned thinking of a million things that could be wrong because of her movement.

"I'm gettin' the weirdest sense that I've seen you tonight." Max replied.

"Max you _did_ see me tonight," Logan reminded.

"No I mean it was you," Max agreed. "But you were – different."

"What do you mean 'different'?" Logan was really getting worried because she wasn't making any sense, and Max always made sense.

"You were dressed up like an old gangster," Max explained. "Button down suit, fedora – it was kinda hot actually. And I was Ga Ga Gabore and Bonny Sinclair rolled into one."

"Max you were dreaming," Logan was relieved that she wasn't hallucinating due to a ruptured blood vessel in her brain.

"It was too real to be a dream Logan," Max corrected. "It was like I was living in another time."

"Maybe you're remembering a past life," Logan suggested completely serious. "It would explain your remembering me."

"So you're saying that I lived some 1940's glamour life and now I'm remembering it because of an accident?"

"The belief of past lives has widely been believed to exist in some controversial but very real forms such as the déjà vu phenomenon."

"If that was a past life then I wish I didn't remember it."

"I thought you liked what you saw," Logan teased but he immediately lost his mirth when he saw the look in her eyes. "What about it was so bad?" His voice had grown softer; prying carefully into something that had obviously affected her.

"Nothing except that Lydecker seems to screw me wherever I am." Her words were filled with such raw emotion and she gripped at the end of the comforter like she was wringing Lydecker's neck. "He tracked me and Zack down. Apparently he was head of some Post Nazi level genetic experimental project and even in that life he managed to damage us as kids and want us all back for personal gain." The raw emotion in her tone changed into distinctive anger. "I was still me though – all dressed up like some seductive scandal – but I still had my moves and got out of the line of fire-" she paused. "Apparently in both my planes of existence."

"I can believe that," Logan agreed. "You being an ass kicker in multiple lives. You have a way about you that would defiantly transcend through time."

"Good job Logan Cale-" Max chided. "Compliment a girl who can't even stand up to thank you."

"You don't have to be standing up to thank someone Max," he responded. "All you have to do is use your mouth."

"That's what I was plannin' on." Her voice was colored with a quiet sensual longing.

It took Logan all of three seconds to understand her response. He leaned close to her and kissed her, not passionately, not gently but rather a combination of the two that left her feeling a lingering desire when he pulled away.

"Get some rest okay?" Logan ordered gently. He lingered by her side tracing the edge of her face as if brushing aside an invisible lock of hair that had fallen in her eyes.

Max looked up into his eyes but didn't say anything, watching as he stood up from the mattress and moved easily, but slowly, towards the door. She continued to watch him until he was right in front of the door the stopped him from going out with a single word: "Logan?"

He turned and looked back at her lying on his bed.

"Thanks," she said. It was a simple remark that but one that held such deep meaning. It summed up everything she wanted to say but didn't want to cheapen with sappy words.

"I care about you Max," Logan informed. "And I wouldn't hesitate to do it again – not even for a second." There was no smile on his face, only truehearted sincerity that a smile wouldn't cover. He watched her for a lingering instant before slipping quietly out the door leaving her with the taste of his kiss on her mouth.

XXXXXXXXXX

METRO MEDICAL – PARKING LOT

How the hell did you see yourself so above the chain-of-command that you would unblinkingly _assonate_ one of my top agents?" Renfro's voice was quiet but no less pissed off. In front of her Agent Sodaval was being wheeled on a gurney – in a black body bag – towards a black military SUV.

Deck watched the proceedings with the cold, unfeeling eyes of an Army Colonel that considered death a weapon. "Sondaval was a weak leak in your chain-of-command; a very real threat to Manticore itself."

"We have ways of dealing with these kind of situations," Renfro reminded with hostility. "You didn't have to take him out."

"The only way of dealing with a weak link is to remove it; otherwise it will bring down everything around it."

"What about the two Attack Team soldiers that were offed while following _your_ orders? You let two of your best men get killed playing cat and with the X5 who you let escape in 09. You remember _that_ and then you tell me again who's the weak link here." Renfro's voice had risen. She didn't tolerate Lydecker's unique 'relationship' with the rouge X5's. "For God's sake Deck; you're not a commander; you're a father chasing after those renegade kids of yours. They're some of the finest genetic creations in the world and their free ranging all over God's green earth because you would rather have them keep evading you then put down their resistance."

"Their DNA is some of the finest in existence," Lydecker informed coldly. "And I'm not about to see the mistreatment of millions of dollars worth of science and labor from you or any of those pathetic workers you call 'agents'."

Renfro sat in quiet anger for ten seconds; the hem of her black pea coat flapping in the wind of the impending Seattle rain. Something resembling a smile soon crossed her face. "Your kids are more like you then you know – or maybe it's the other way around."

"My kids are smart," Deck reminded punctuating each word slowly. "It takes more then a hat trick to bring them in. You may be dismissive of my ideas, but never underestimate their capabilities."

"What I underestimating aren't _their_ capabilities Deck, but yours." Renfro addressed him with no remorse, staring him down like she was the Army Colonel not him. "Frankly I question your ability to remain Commanding Officer at Manticore especially considering your constant slip ups in bringing in X5-452."

"452 is one of the top level X5's. None of your men have been trained properly to deal with a skill level as advanced as hers."

"The girl runs every time one of our units moves in to intercept her. That's not skill, that's cowardice."

"X5's were trained to avoid exposure at all costs. Without me there to anticipate her movements she'll keep vanishing into the woodwork and we'll never catch her."

"We can't catch her now," Renfro slid her hands into her coat pockets, lowering her voice when a pair of ER nurses passed by them on the way to the outside smoking section. "What makes you believe that me keeping your miserable skin on the payroll will make this situation any better?"

Deck went quiet, thinking about his next remark but it quickly ended after only two seconds. "I killed one of your well trained agents and your questioning my ability to catch someone higher trained? This isn't a game Anna. It's a war and in war only military personnel are allowed access. I will bring in 452 myself. Make no mistake about that." Deck finished in quiet matter-of-factness and then headed towards his waiting SUV.

XXXXXXXXXXX

MAX (VOICE OVER): "_There exists at any given time multiple universes that we all live in everyday – past lives that only a few of us really think are real. At least that's what conspiracy theorists claim."_

(Max is lying in Logan's bed resting her head carefully on the pillow as if it would shatter like glass at too much pressure. She stares out the large window a foot away from the bed taking in the gray Seattle Skyline)

MAX (VOICE OVER CONTINUES): "_I know the value of actual reality; how déjà vu can be explained as just a manifestation of a life we would want to live that makes itself known in our subconscious. But I also know the conspiracy theories because I'm a conspiracy theory myself."_

(SHOT CUTS TO A SIDE SHOT OF LYDECKER DRIVING AWAY IN HIS SUV.)

MAX (VOICE OVER): "_But my past has always been chasing after me and there are some things I don't want to relive in a parallel world."_

(SHOT SWITCHES TO 1944 SCENE OF MAX WALKING DOWN A DIRTY ALLEYWAY, BUT SHE IS LOST IN COMPLETE THOUGHT ABOUT SOMETHING THAT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THE ROAD IN FRONT OF HER.)

MAX (VOICE OVER):_ "It's not like I have a choice in living through some crap in past lives – but that doesn't mean I won't survive them all._

XXXXXXXXXX

END

Whew, this was quite an undertaking. And to think it all started with this image in my mind of Max wearing a fedora hat seated at a bar in an old nightclub. Well I can safely say that it escalated into something much bigger. The parallel world thing I came up with because I didn't want to do an out and out story about Max in 1944. I thought tying the past with the Dark Angel present would be more unique then just doing one story about Max in 1944 and one story about her getting out of Lydecker's hands.

This story featured songs from the era of jazz, swing and blues, some of my favorite kind of music. I have a Glenn Miller CD and I would listen to his swing orchestra play while I wrote this to get me in the mood.

If you all got anything from this story I hope that it was something with satisfying action, good dialogue, good emotion and well – old fashioned sexiness. I worked real hard on that last one. If you noticed no one in this story ever had actual sex. I consider it a higher form of writing to make a sexy atmosphere in your story without having anyone get under the sheets.

Thanks for reading, and please review.

Peace

Mystic


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